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TAGHCONIC; 


Ccttcrs  ano  Ccqcu^s  about  onr  Summer  Cjome. 


BY    GODFREY    GREYLOCK. 


"  Thou  slialt  look 
Upon  the  green  and  rolling  forest  tops. 
And  down  into  the  secrets  of  the  glens, 
And  streams,  that  with  their  bordering  thickets  strive 
T<>  hide  their  windings.    Thou  shalt  naze  at  ouce 
Here  on  white  villages  and  tilth  and  nerds, 
And  swarming  roads,  and  there  on  solitudes 
That  only  hear  the  torrent,  and  the  wind, 
And  eagles  shriek." 

Bryant. 


BOSTON: 

REDDING  AND   COMPANY,   8   STATE   STREET. 

1852. 


> 


o  Act  of  Congrc: 
r  J.  E.  A.  -MIT 
istrict  Court  of  tl 


intrrs, 


F 

EPISTLE    DEDICATORY 
®o  Summer  ikmbkrs  on  tl)e  Cerksljirc  frills. 


Friends  :  — 

From  Vermont  upon  the  north  to  Connecticut 
upon  the  south,  for  fifty  miles  along  the  eastern  borders 
of  New  York,  extends  Berkshire,  the  most  western 
county  of  Massachusetts.  It  is  a  region  of  hills  and 
valleys,  of  lake  and  stream,  of  woodland,  farm  and 
field.  Its  beauty  is  world  renowned ;  for  the  pens  of 
Bryant  and  Miss  Sedgwick  have  made  it  their  favorite 
theme.  Within  its  limits  are  Monument  Mountain, 
Icy  Glen,  the  Stockbridge  Bowl,  Green  River,  with  a 
thousand  other  scenes  of  storied  or  of  unsung  loveliness. 
In  the  north  rise  majestically,  six  thousand  feet  into 
the  air,  the  double  peaks  of  Greylock.  Along  our 
western  borders  lie  the  dome  like  summit  of  the  Tasrh- 
conic  range.  Less  graceful  in  outline,  but  even  more 
romantic  with  broken  and  precipitous  ascents,  the  Hoo- 
sacs  shut  out  the  world  upon  the  east.  Within  this 
mountain  walled  amphitheatre  lies  cradled  the  upland 
valley  of  the  Housatonic,  with  all  its  fertile  farms,  its 
mansion  homes,  and  frequent  villages.  Somebody  has 
called  it  the  Piedmont  of  America.     I  do  not  know 

882013 


EPISTLE    DEDICATORY. 


how  just  the  appellation  may  he,  but  I  do  know  that  if 
Piedmont  can  rightly  be  called  the  Berkshire  of  Eu- 
rope, it  must  he  a  very  delightful  region. 

What  we  most  admire  in  Berkshire  scenery  is  its 
freshness,  boldness,  and  variety.  Our  hills  boast  no 
astounding  grandeur;  there  is  nothing  about  them  of 
an  Alpine  character ;  they  possess  few  scenes  which 
can  properly  rank  with  the  sublime.  The  highest 
mountain  tops,  the  most  precipitous  cliffs,  —  sufficient 
to  claim  our  admiration,  wild  enough  to  be  the  marvel 
of  tourists  from  the  tame  coast  country,  —  cannot,  for  a 
moment,  compare  Avith  similar  scenes  among  the  White 
Mountains,  or  the  Alleghanies  —  not  to  mention  more 
unapproachable  wonders  of  Nature.  Our  deepest  ra- 
vines, often  penetrated  by  smooth,  flower  bordered 
roads,  are  very  different  things,  indeed,  from  the  earth- 
quake rifted  chasms  of  other  lands. 

If  the  traveller  seek  some  object  for  a  day's  or  a 
week's  wonder,  some  tremendous  cataract  or  "  Heaven 
piercing  Cordillera,"  he  must  seek  it  elsewhere.  But 
if  he  asks  for  a  retreat  among  wild  and  picturesque 
scenery,  adorned  by  much  that  is  pleasant  and  refined 
in  his  city  life,  but  far  removed  from  its  heat  and  tur- 
moil ;  where  he  can  draw  closer  the  silken  cord  of  social 
intercourse,  and  yet  throw  loose  some  of  its  galling 
chains ;  where  nature  ennobles  by  her  greatness  but 
never  chills  with  a  frown,  he  may  find  it  all  amid  the 
varied  beauty  of  the  Berkshire  Hills. 

The  inexhaustible  variety  of  our  vistas  is  wonderful. 
It  is  marvellous  in  what  an  endless  series  of  combina- 
tions, mountain,  valley,  lake,  stream,  rock,  field  and 
wood,    present    themselves.     "Wherever   you   go,    you 


EPISTLE    DEDICATORY. 


meet  a  constant  succession  of  changes  which  at  once 
charm  the  eye  and  delight  the  heart.     At  every  turn 

"  You  stand  suddenly  astonished, 
You  are  gladdened  unaware." 

Through  the  long  Summer  months  you  may  seek, 
and  not  in  vain,  some  new  object,  daily,  of  interest  and 
pleasure.  But  that  you  will  not  do ;  a  few  spots  will 
become  so  dear  that,  while  you  revisit  them  again  and 
again,  others  of  perhaps  greater  merit  will  remain  neg- 
lected. 

So  profusely  has  Nature  scattered  her  treasures  in 
this  fair  land,  that  it  is  thought  by  most,  superfluous  to 
search  out  her  more  choice  and  hidden  gems.  Many 
of  the  most  unique  and  beautiful  of  these  remained  con- 
cealed from  those  who  have  passed  their  lives  within  a 
rifle  shot  of  them.  The  traditions  which  were  once  at- 
tached to  almost  all  these  scenes  are  also  rapidly  fading 
away,  with  the  fading  yeai's  of  grey  haired  men. 
"There  was  a  story,"  I  have  been  often  told,  "Old 
Deacon  Whitehead  used  to  tell,  but  he  is  dead  and  I 
have  forgotten  the  details." 

To  make  known  some  of  these  hidden  retreats  of 
beauty,  to  revive  and  preserve  a  few  of  these  half  for- 
gotten traditions,  was  the  design  with  which  these  brief 
pages  were  commenced.  It  has  been  a  work  of  greater 
difficulty  than  Avas  anticipated,  to  procure  the  necessary 
information,  although  now,  when  it  is  too  late  to  be  of 
service,  much  new  material  is  offered.  It  will  not  be 
improper,  perhaps,  to  say  here,  that  during  our  progress, 
circumstances  have  occurred  which  rendered  necessary 
a  slight   change   in  the  character  originally   intended. 


EPISTLE    DEDICATORY. 


and  the  omission  of  a  great  deal  of  matter,  of  merely 
local  interest,  which  was  already  written. 

And  now  to  you,  whom  I  have  presumed  to  call  my 
friends,  and  for  whom  this  little  volume  was  more  espe- 
pecially  designed,  I  commend,  for  your  kindness,  what 
is  done.  Every  page  was  written  with  a  sympathy  for 
your  admiration  of  this  pleasant  county,  which  expanded 
as  it  warmed,  into  personal  friendship  for  yourselves. 
If  I  shall  point  any  of  you  to  scenes  of  Nature's  glad- 
ness, to  which  you  would  otherwise  have  been  stran- 
gers ;  if  I  shall  contribute  one  moment  of  happiness  to 
your  Summer  hours ;  if  I  shall  hereafter  recall  more 
vividly  to  your  mind  these  rural  scenes,  when  they 
shall  be  a  little  faded,  I  shall  be  amply  repaid ;  how 
much  more,  if  I  shall  add  one  pleasant  thought  to  min- 
gle with  your  own,  as  you  gaze  upon  the  grand,  the 
noble,  or  the  beautiful,  in  our  dear  mountain  valley. 

Godfrey    Greylock. 
Pittsjield,  September,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


OUR   TOWN.  —  ITS    OLD    ELM.  —  ITS   ENVIRONS.  —  ITS    PEO- 
PLE.  ITS    PAST    AND    PRESENT,          ....  9 

WASHINGTON   MOUNTAIN.  —  UNDINE'S    GLEN.  —  AND   LAKE 

ASHLEY, 18 

ROARING  BROOK.  —  TORIES'  GLEN.  —  AND  SOMETHING 

ABOUT  THE  TORIES, 28 

PONTOOSUC  LAKE  AND  ROLLING  ROCK,     ...  38 

LEBANON  SPRINGS. A  DASH  AT  LIFE  THERE,  45 

BERRY  POND, 60 

THE    WIZARD'S    GLEN, 68 

OUR   RURAL    CEMETERY,              - 76 

AN    HOUR    IN     OUR    CEMETERY BEING     BRIEF    RECORDS 

OF   CONVERSATION, 82 

LENOX    AND    ITS    SCENERY, 88 

LENOX   AS   A   JUNGLE   FOR   LITERARY    LIONS,            -  97 

LAKE    ONOTA AND    ITS    WHITE    DEER,       -  109 

VISIT    TO    A    SHAKER    MEETING, 118 

NOTES    ON    SHAKERDOM, 135 

THAT    EXCURSION    TO    GREYLOCK,               ....  149 

ABOUT    OUR    CATTLE    SHOW, 157 

WHAT    THEY    DO    AT    OTIS, 178 

PITTSFIELD    YOUNG    LADIES'    INSTITUTE,                  ...  186 

LANESBORO'. HILLS    AND    VALLEYS,      ...            -  192 

GRANULAR   QUARTZ.  —  SILICIOUS    SAND   BEDS,                -           -  202 

MONUMENT      MOUNTAIN. ICY      GLEN. STOCKBRIDGE 

BOWL. THE    MURDERED    TRAVELLER'S    GLEN,            -  207 

WAlICONAIl'S    FALLS,    AND    A    TRADITION    ABOUT    THEM,  213 


TAGHCONIC. 

—►»•©•■«— 
CHAPTER    I. 

OUR    TOWN. ITS    OLD    ELM.  —  ITS     ENVIRONS. ITS 

PEOPLE. ITS    PAST   AND    PRESENT. 

To  be  sure  the  first  claim  which,  our  town  has  to 
notice  is  that  it  is  ours.  The  "propria  "  is  an  excel- 
lent and  universally  recognised  title  to  our  affections ; 
the  very  idea  of  property  is  genial  to  our  hearts  — 
even  if  it  be  only  in  the  travelled  streets  of  a  town, 
with  so  much  of  Heaven's  universal  gifts  as  one  can 
there  possess,  use  and  enjoy,  in  common  with  six 
thousand  copartners.  "  Mine "  and,  more  intensely, 
"  mine  own "  are  terms  of  superlative  endearment  in 
the  patois  of  the  novel  writers.  So  deeply  indeed  is 
this  correspondence  between  ownership  and  affection 
implanted  in  the  breast,  that  no  sooner  does  a  man  con- 
ceive a  passion  for  his  neighbor's  house,  horse,  or  any 
thing  that  is  his,  than  an  uneasy,  feverish  desire  to 
transfer  the  possession  betrays  that  his  mind  is  out  of 
unison  with  the  harmony  of  Nature.  Nowhere  is  this 
reciprocal  relation  more  heartily  honored  than  in  the 


10  TAGHCONIC. 


love  which  the  good  people  of  Pittsfield  bear  to 
their  beautiful  town.  Waiving,  however,  this  claim, 
which  is,  in  its  terms,  not  binding  upon  a  stranger,  our 
town  has  a  title  to  affectionate  admiration  in  its  beauty, 
its  environs  and  its  associations,  which  no  traveller 
ever  desires  to  impeach.  It  is  indeed  a  fair  town. 
Standing  in  the  centre  of  that  magnificent  panorama 
of  hills  which  encompasses  the  County  of  Berkshire,  it 
is  encircled  by  a  chain  of  beauty.  Branching  from  its 
central  green,  delightful  avenues  extend  in  all  direc- 
tions into  the  most  picturesque  and  inviting  regions  ; 
but,  before  we  permit  them  to  entice  us  away,  let  us 
linger  a  little  while  under  the  circular  grove  of  elms 
which  shades  its  green. 

You  must  have  heard  of  the  Old  Elm  of  Pittsfield ; 
it  rises  here  above  us  —  the  scarred  and  seared  veteran 
of  centuries  in  the  midst  of  the  young  green  growth. 
Straight  into  the  air  it  soars  one  hundred  and  twenty 
six  feet ;  a  tall,  grey  pillar,  bearing  upon  its  head  a  few 
green  branches  and  a  few  withered,  shattered,  and  bare 
limbs.  From  Greylock  to  Monument  Mountain  there 
is  no  inanimate  thing  so  reverend  and  venerable  as  this. 

It  has  had  hair-breadth  escapes  in  its  day  —  has  that 
old  tree.  When  it  stood  a  graceful  sapling  in  the  un- 
touched forest  —  wherein  as  yet  no  white  man  had  his 
habitation  —  it  is  told  that  the  Indian  war  parties  came 
hither  at  night,  with  the  pale-faced  prisoners  whom 
they  had  taken  from  the  Southern  settlements.  Here, 
upon  the  place  which  is  nowr  our  peaceful  green,  they 
pitched  their  camp,  and  bound  the  swollen  and  bleed- 
ing limbs  of  their  miserable  captives  to  the  young  elm, 
while  they  slept.     Once,  as  the  story  goes,  a  prisoner, 


THE    OLD    ELM.  11 


worn  out  by  the  way  and  unable  to  proceed,  was  bound 
to  the  lithe  trunk  of  the  elm,  the  faggots  piled  around 
him  and  already  lighted,  for  the  last  rite  of  savage 
cruelty,  when  Providence  interfered  —  probably  in  the 
shape  of  a  French  priest,  or  officer, —  the  victim  was 
rescued,  and  with  him  the  young  tree  escaped  its  first 
danger  from  the  hand  of  man  ;  but  the  kindling  flames 
had  left  their  mark  upon  it,  by  which  it  was  after- 
wards recognised. 

It  lived  to  see  the  red  race  vanish  from  the  land, 
and  another  people  usurp  their  hunting-grounds ;  but 
its  own  dangers  were  not  yet  past.  The  new  race 
were  pious  and  Godly  men,  and  must  have  a  temple  in 
which  to  worship  the  Most  High.  They  built  them- 
selves a  Meeting-house  —  which  we  may  suppose  to 
have  been  a  rude  and  simple  structure  —  close  by  the 
Elm.  A  few  years  passed,  they  grew  mightily,  and  their 
borders  became  too  narrow  for  them.  It  was  deter- 
mined to  build  a  larger  and  more  goodly  church. 
Meanwhile  the  Elm  had  grown  very  tall  and  straight, 
and  the  devout  deacons  Avho  had  it  in  charge  to  build 
the  new  sanctuary,  cast  their  eyes  upon  it  and  said 
that  it  was  convenient  and  fitting  for  a  principal  beam 
in  the  frame.  Perhaps  they  thought  the  Almighty  had 
planted  and  preserved  it  there  for  that  special  purpose, 
as  He  once  furnished  a  ram  to  Abraham  for  a  sacrifice. 
If  any  such  thought  did  enter  their  hearts  the  event 
proved  its  falsity ;  the  tree  turned  out  the  better  rep- 
resentative of  Isaac, — for  at  the  critical  moment,  Avhen 
it  was  about  to  be  sacrificed,  an  angel  appeared  to  save 
it,  in  the  person  of  one  Mrs.  Williams,  a  brave  and 
excellent    dame    who    lived   not   far   off.     Seein«;   the 


12  TAGHCONIC 


preparations  for  felling  her  favorite  tree,  she  placed 
herself  as  a  shield  before  it,  and  so  stoutly  maintained 
her  post  that  the  destroyers  were  at  last  either  softened 
or  shamed  from  their  purpose,  and  the  tree  was  per- 
mitted to  remain. 

The  husband  of  this  brave  and  gentle  lady  did  his 
share  toward  the  preservation  of  the  Old  Elm.  On 
Sundays  the  devout  worshippers  were  in  the  habit  of 
fastening  their  horses  to  iron  spikes,  with  which  they 
had  encircled  the  tree ;  the  sermons,  in  those  days, 
were  none  of  the  shortest,  and  while  their  masters 
waited  for  the  third  turning  of  the  hour-glass,  the 
beasts  made  ruinous  havoc  with  the  bark  and  roots  of 
the  Elm.  To  prevent  this  weekly  equine  attack,  Mr. 
Williams  piled  up  a  barricade  of  stones,  which  proved 
an  etfective  protection.  It  is  to  this  gentleman  that 
the  village  owes  also  its  public  square,  —  of  which  he 
gave  the  southern  half  from  his  own  land,  on  condition 
that  the  town  should  place  their  Meeting-house  at  a 
corresponding  distance  from  the  Elm  on  the  north. 

The  tree,  having  survived  the  attacks  of  savage  and 
civilized  man,  had  a  more  formidable  enemy  to  encoun- 
ter. Some  years  ago,  a  thunder-bolt  fell  upon  it,  and 
running  down  its  side  stripped  away  the  bark,  leaving 
a  naked  wound  of  ghastly  whiteness,  from  top  to  bot- 
tom. The  fiery  fluid  dried  up  the  juices  in  its  old 
veins ;  many  of  the  limbs  died,  and  the  whole  tree, 
surviving  the  fury  of  savage  and  the  piety  of  civilized 
man,  is  slowly  perishing  of  the  wrath  of  Heaven.  A 
few  branches  yet  flourish  greenly,  but  year  by  year 
grow  less.  It  is  evident  our  old  friend  will  survive  not 
many  more  Winters  ;  and  as  often  as  the  Spring  begins 


THE    DWELLINGS.  13 


to  swell  the  buds  in  the  grove,  the  question  is  asked 
anxiously,  "Will  the  Old  Elm  survive  this  year,  also?" 

Yet  even  in  its  death  it  is  fortunate ;  the  long,  white 
streak,  where  the  scathing  lightning  passed  adown 
its  trunk,  caught  the  eye  of  Herman  Mellville,  who 
interwove  it  with  his  strong-lined  portrait  of  Captain 
Ahab.  "  Threading  its  way,"  he  says,  "  out  from 
among  his  grey  hairs,  and  continuing  right  down 
one  side  his  tawny,  scorched  face  and  neck,  till  it 
disappeared  in  his  clothing,  you  saw  a  slender,  rod-like 
mark,  lividly  whitish.  It  resembled  that  perpendicular 
seam  sometimes  made  in  the  straight,  lofty  trunk  of  a 
great  tree,  when  the  upper  lightning  tcaringly  darts 
down  it,  and,  without  wrenching  a  single  twig,  peels 
and  grooves  out  the  bark,  from  top  to  bottom,  ere  run- 
ning off  into  the  soil,  —  leaving  the  tree  still  greenly 
alive,  but  branded."  There  you  have  a  graphic  picture 
of  one  of  the  most  noticeable  features  of  our  Old  Elm ; 
and  thus,  in  its  death  stroke  it  received  a  new  life,  — 
as  the  ancients  fabled  that  they  who  died  by  the  light- 
ning's bolt,  thereby  became  immortal. 

Branching  from  the  central  square,  extend  the  broad, 
quiet,  shaded  streets,  bordered  by  pretty  white-walled 
houses,  with  handsome  gardens  and  court-yards  green 
with  shrubbery,  —  a  delightful  Summer  promenade. 
To  the  town's  people  these  dwellings  are  each  pregnant 
with  associations  of  the  past;  each  has  its  story.  They 
tell  you  —  these  good  citizens  —  as  you  pass  along,  now 
pleasant,  gossiping  histories ;  now  low  hissed  scandals, 
mouldy  and  soured,  which  ought  long  ago  to  have  been 
in  their  graves ;  and  occasionally  you  hear  a  tfde  of 
open  or  proved  guilt,  such  as  you  would  rather  not 
1* 


14  TAGIICONIC 


believe  could  have  its  dwelling  in  sucli  innocent-looking 
homes.  Yet  is  our  town  unsurpassed,  in  the  virtue, 
intelligence,  and  cultivation  of  its  citizens.  One  who 
calls  it  "  ours  "  only  by  courtesy  can  modestly  say  it. 

You  hear  them  speak  names  which  call  up  no  image 
in  your  mind,  and  which  have  long  since  ceased  to 
receive  an  answer  in  these  streets.  They  call  places 
by  appellations  unfamiliar  to  your  ears.  The  iron 
horse  has  brought  new  wealth,  prosperity  and  hope  to 
the  thriving  town.  There  are  groceries  where  there 
used  to  be  gardens ;  mansions  where  there  used  to  be 
meadows.  The  town  is  richer  and  handsomer  than  it 
was ;  but  in  many  hearts,  for  whom  the  old  cpiiet  used 
to  be  full  of  joy  and  peace,  the  new  wealth  and  crowd 
and  noisy  prosperity  cannot  but  sometimes  awaken 
painful  longings.  In  the  stillness  of  the  evening  — 
when  the  shrill  cry  of  the  steam-whistle  pierces  the  ear 
and  goes  echoing  into  the  breathless  distance,  like  the 
shout  of  a  drunken  man  on  the  solemn  midnight —  you 
listen  to  their  touching  reminiscences  of  the  past,  and 
are  moved  by  laments  for  which  the  eager,  throbbing 
heart  of  common  life  has  no  chord  in  unison. 

In  these  streets  live  some  whose  names  are  known  to 
fame.  A  little  apart  from  the  village  is  the  mansion 
and  farm  of  Governor  Briggs —  our  model  man.  The 
mansion  is  a  handsome  one,  in  a  fine  location,  and  pro- 
fusely surrounded  with  shrubbery.  Nearer  our  square 
is  the  residence  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Todd.  To  say  nothing 
of  his  eloquence  as  a  divine,  and  his  excellence  as  a 
writer  of  light  literature,  every  student  ought  to  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  home  of  the  author  of  the  "  Student's 
Manual,"  —  the   most   perfect  work  of  its  kind  ever 


OLIVER    WENDELL    HOLMES.  15 

written ;    to  whose  paternal  and  skillful  advice  many 
young  men  owe  all  they  are  or  will  he. 

On  a  gentle  knoll  on  one  of  our  most  beautiful  streets, 
is  the  country  seat  of  Hon.  Nathan  Appleton,  in 
which  is  the  "  Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs,1'  celebrated  by 
Professor  Longfellow. 

"  Somewhat  back  from  the  village  street 
Stands  the  old  fashioned  country  seat  ; 
Across  its  antique  portico 
Tall  poplar  trees  their  shadows  throw,  — 
And  from  its  station  in  the  hall 
An  ancient  time-piece  says  to  all  — 
Forever,  never, 
Never,  forever." 

A  couple  of  miles  farther  south,  upon  a  little  hill, 
around  which  the  Housatonic  makes  a  graceful  curve, 
is  the  villa  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  His  estate 
here  is  the  relic  of  a  whole  township,  purchased  of  the 
Indians  by  an  ancestor  of  the  poet.  He  thus  tells  the 
story  in  a  speech  at  the  Berkshire  Jubilee,  in  1848. 
"In  the  year  1735,  Hon.  Jacob  Wendell,  my  grand- 
father in  the  maternal  line,  bought  a  township,  not  then 
laid  out  —  the  township  of  Pontoosuc,  (now  Pittsheld,) 
—  and  that  little  spot  which  we  still  hold  is  the  relic  of 
24,000  acres  of  baronial  territory.  When  I  say  this, 
no  feeling  which  can  be  the  subject  of  ridicule  animates 
my  bosom ;  I  know  too  well  that  the  hills  and  rocks 
outlast  our  families ;  I  know  that  we  fall  upon  the 
places  we  claim  as  the  leaves  of  the  forest  fall,  —  and, 
as  passed  the  soil  from  the  original  occupants  into  the 
hands  of  my  immediate  ancestor,  I  know  it  must  pass 
from  me  and  mine  ;  and  yet,  with  pleasure  and  pride  I 
feel  that  I  can  take  every  inhabitant  by  the  hand  and 


16  TAGHCONIC. 


say,  that  if  not  a  son  nor  a  grandson  of  this  fair  county, 
I  am  at  least  allied  hy  an  hereditary  relation." 

Adjoining  the  estate  of  Dr.  Holmes  is  that  of  Her- 
man Mellville,  who  has  retired  thus  far  from  the 
sea,  where  nothing  can  remind  him  of  the  familiar 
sounds  of  Ocean,  save  the  roar  of  the  wind  among  the 
forest  trees. 


"  Oh,  home  returned,  what  joy  to  tell 
Of  all  the  dangers  that  befell 
The  sailor  boy  at  sea." 


These  gentlemen  come  hither  for  quiet ;  let  us  leave 
them  to  it,  hoping  that  they  may  find  in  the  bracing 
mountain  air  inspiration  for  a  hundred  things  as  wise 
and  witty  as  "Astrea,"  and  as  enchantingly  truthful 
as  "Typee." 

For  ourselves,  we  will  close  our  ramble  round  the 
town  by  climbing  South  Mountain  —  a  favorite  resort 
of  the  town's  people.  Few  spots  any  where  are  more 
attractive.  Passing  from  its  foot,  up  the  broad,  natural 
terraces  which  wind  around  it,  bordered  by  a  thousand 
variegated  wild  flowers,  to  its  rocky  summit,  you  are 
presented  with  scenes  of  ever-changing  beauty.  The 
over-view  from  the  summit  is  the  best  you  can  find  of 
Pittsfield  and  the  northern  valley,  as  far  as  Greylock. 
Standing  on  its  topmost  rock,  under  a  spreading  oak 
which  waves  its  branches  like  a  green  banner,  high 
above  the  surrounding  wood,  you  will  be  enchanted  by 
the  varied  scene  below. 

Just  at  your  feet,  in  the  lands  of  J.  E.  Moeewood, 
Esq.,  will  lie  the  Mellville  Pond  —  the  tiniest  little 
lakelet  you  ever  saw,  —  so  crystal,  clear,  and  pure,  that 


MOUNTAIN    SCENERY.  17 

a  fanciful  and  poetic  friend  calls  it  a  "  Tear  of  Heaven." 
There  is  a  cool  and  rnossy  path  upon  its  eastern  border, 
completely  overarched  by  trees,  —  "  No  more  sky,  for 
overbranching  at  your  head  than  at  your  feet."  Rarely, 
through  a  leaf-screened  crevice,  the  green  and  golden 
light  streams  down  with  a  subdued  gorgeousness. 
There  is  something  exquisitely  rich  in  these  and  other 
"woodland  tints ;  I  cannot  forget  the  purple  hue  which 
a  few  struggling  rays  of  light  imparted  to  a  little  spot 
of  black  earth,  as  I  walked  in  this  cool  retreat  once 
when  it  was  tierce  noontide  without.  The  very  outlines 
marked  by  its  rich,  deep  coloring,  are  vividly  present 
to  me  now ;  while  so  much  that  seemed  more  enduring 
has  faded  from  existence,  and  is  fading  from  memory. 

But  back  again  to  our  mountain  top.  It  is  the  small- 
est of  three  sister  hills;  on  its  western  side  is  Mt. 
Oceola  —  another  much  prized  resort,  but  of  less  gentle 
attractions  than  South  Mountain.  Still  farther  to  the 
west  is  Perry's  Peak ;  I  have  never  visited  it,  but  am 
told  the  view  from  it  is  hardly,  if  at  all,  surpassed  by 
that  from  Greylock,  and  I  can  well  believe  it. 

Other  beautiful  things  are  shown  to  us  from  this  pin- 
nacle, but  of  them  anon  ;  other  things  of  interest  might 
be  said  of  our  people,  but  of  that  also  at  another,  per- 
haps a  distant  time. 


CHAPTER    II. 

"WASHINGTON    MOUNTAIN. UNDINE'S    GLEN. 

AND    LAKE    ASHLEY. 

This  last  lias  been  a  week  of  rare  sultriness  with 
us  —  the  fierce,  dying  flicker  of  Summer's  life  flame. 
The  maple  leaves  have  lost  the  last  remnant  of  their 
glossy  freshness ;  the  cattle  stand  cooling  themselves 
under  the  willow  trees  in  the  still  pools  of  the  river ; 
long  ago  the  birds  ceased  their  songs  and  fled  into  the 
deeper  recesses  of  the  woods ;  we  human  idlers  lie  list- 
lessly under  the  shade  of  the  nearer  groves,  in  dreamy 
reveries  or  feeble  speculations  upon  the  probable  destiny 
of  some  little  cloud  which  may  chance  to  speck  the 
horizon  —  the  forlorn  hope  of  a  thunder-shower.  At 
evening  we  broach  some  mild  beverage  of  conversation, 
but  if  any  venturous  tongue  leads  the  imagination  to 
your  torrid  city  of  Manhattoes,  we  start  back  as  if  from 
the  flaming  mouth  of  a  furnace.  On  the  most  fiery  day 
of  this  fiery  seven,  came  a  friend  who,  that  day  of  all 
others,  must  climb  Washington  Mountain.  Xo  flaming 
sword  of  the  elements  could  deter  him,  and  all  the 
chivalry  of  friendship  forbade  me  to  abandon  his  side. 
This  Washington  Mountain  is  part  of  the  Hoosac  range, 
a  continuation  of  the  Green  Mountains,  which  runs 
through  the  entire  length  of  Berkshire   County,  on  its 


WASHINGTON   MOUNTAIN.  19 

eastern  border.  The  point  which  we  were  to  visit  lies 
some  seven  miles  east  of  Pittsfield,  and  seven  hundred 
feet  above  it ;  that  is,  not  far  from  eighteen  hundred 
feet  above  tide-water,  at  Alban; 

Thinking  to  escape  the  mor'  heat,  we  set  out 

at  a  very  early  hour,  but  the  ai  was  already  intensely 
sultry,  and,  still  worse,  was  died  with  a  fine  white 
dust,  that  completely  penetrated  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth. 
"We  could  neither  see,  breathe,  nor  a  >cak,  with  comfort ; 
and  the  gritty  particles  between  our  teeth  sent  a  ner- 
vous shudder  through  the  whole  frame.  As  we  ascended 
the  mountain  we  came  upon  a  fine  breeze  which  never 
fails  there,  and  which  at  the  same  time  aggravated  the 
plague  of  the  dust,  and  inspired  us  with  vigor  to  devise 
and  execute  a  remedy. 

Ever  and  anon,  by  the  road-side,  appeared  glimpses 
of  a  deep,  rocky  gorge.  Up  this,  L.  proposed  to  ascend 
the  mountain  by  a  path  familiar  to  him,  and,  accord- 
ingly, sending  our  horse  forward,  ve  plunged  down  a 
steep  descent  thick  beset  with  brambles.  At  the  bot- 
tom, a  little  brook  came  tumbling  and  purling  down  the 
hill,  and,  yielding  to  its  suggestion  ,  we  indulged  in  a 
series  of  luscious  ablutions.  None  but  those  who  have 
experienced  the  like,  can  kno . '  the  thrilling  vigor  and 
elasticity  which  penetrated  ui  the   cool  mountain 

air  when  the  burning  and  in 'lammatory  dust  was  once 
removed  from  the  pores. 

Filled  with  new  life,  we  pi  i  ed  eagerly  up  the  brook, 
now  clambering  over  huge  ai  <"  dar  blocks  of  flint  rock, 
now  sauntering  along  smootl  latches  of  green  sward, 
and  anon  pushing  our  way  tin  )   thorny  hedge  of 

blackberry   bushes,   hanging    full   of  the   ripest   fruit. 


20  TAGHCONIC. 


Still  L.  led  on,  till  we  came  to  a  little  level  spot  of 
green  sward,  around  which  the  brook  swept  in  a  grace- 
ful curve,  while  a  thick  leaved  maple  overhung  it. 
"We  were  here  shut  out  from  all  sight  of  human  habi- 
tation. The  only  traces  of  man's  ravages  were  the 
weather-beaten  stumps,  which  stood,  ghastly  memorials 
of  his  parricidal  war  with  nature,  like  the  bleached 
sculls  which  the  ploughman  turns  up  on  an  ancient 
battle-field.  The  precipitous  hills,  on  either  side,  were 
yet  shaggy,  although  not  as  of  old,  with  the  maple,  the 
beech,  the  fir,  and  tie  hemlock.  Just  up  the  gorge,  the 
streamlet  leaped  down  a  black  ledge  in  a  silver  white 
column  ;  while,  beyond,  the  glen  was  dark  with  narrow- 
ing cliffs  and  over-hanging  trees.  Bravely,  but  in  vain, 
the  gorgeous  sunshine  darted  its  arrowy  rays  into  that 
Thermopylae  of  gloom. 

L.  flung  himself  at  full  length  beneath  the  maple, 
and  I  was  glad  to  follow  his  example.  "  Do  you 
know,"  he  said,  "  this  is  Undine's  Glen  ?  Shall  I  tell 
you  the  story  of  how  it  got  its  foreign  name  ?  "  Do, 
I  replied. 

H  n  b  i  n  z '  s    ©  o  r  g  e . 

One  day  in  June,  some  ten  years  ago,  there  came  to 
the  village  hotel  in  P.  two  ladies ;  the  one,  Miss  Helen 
V.,  an  heiress,  and  what  was  more,  a  spirited,  brilliant, 
and  natural  girl.  The  other  was  her  maiden  aunt, 
Miss  M.,  neither  young  nor  pretty,  yet  a  little  roman- 
tic and  not  a  little  stiff  in  her  manners.  Miss  M.  held 
moreover  the  responsible  office  of  guardian  to  her 
niece,  which  that  young  lady  took  the  best  care  should 
be  anything  but  a  sinecure. 


undine's  gorge.  21 

Riding,  walking,  and  reading,  the  lone  dames  whiled 
away  a  week  or  two ;  when,  provokingly  enough,  just 
as  the  last  page  of  their  last  light  reading  was  cut, 
there  came  a  rainy,  dreary  day,  as  such  days  will  come, 
even  in  June.  At  such  desperate  junctures,  solid  lite- 
rature and  re-readings  are  not  to  be  thought  of;  so 
recourse  was  had  to  the  landlord.  That  functionary 
was  anxious  to  serve  his  fair  guests,  but  unfortunately 
his  shelves  contained  just  what  they  had  already  read. 
Suddenly  his  face  brightened  with  a  new  idea.  Among 
his  boarders  was  one  Dr.  M.,  who,  to  enliven  his  hours 
in  the  country  had  brought  with  him  from  New  York 
a  curious  library.  This  gentleman  was  summoned,  and 
made  his  appearance,  —  a  very  personable  young  gen- 
tleman and  a  clever.  The  wants  of  the  ladies  were 
made  known  to  him,  and  he  invited  them  to  examine 
his  library  for  themselves,  and  some  pictures  which  he 
prized  as  well. 

Helen  was  delighted,  although  she  did  not  exactly 
say  so  then ;  Miss  M.  hesitated,  with  some  secret  mis- 
givings, but  finally,  overcome  by  the  fiend  ennui  and 
the  frank  bearing  of  M.,  she,  courteously  enough,  ac- 
cepted the  invitation.  Evening  was  upon  them  before 
they  had  completed  the  survey,  for,  besides  his  paint- 
ings by  other  artists,  M.  modestly  displayed  his  own 
portfolio,  filled  with  sketches  of  foreign  as  well  as 
neighboring  scenery.  Helen  eagerly  turned  them  over, 
and  M.  had  an  enthusiastic  word  for  many  a  remem- 
bered scene.  After  Miss  M.  had  several  times  re- 
minded her  of  her  prolonged  stay,  Helen  selected  De 
La  Motte  Fouque's  delightful  romance  of  ''Undine" 
from  the  library,  and  that  evening  M.  read  it  aloud  to 
2 


22  TAfiHCONIC. 


them  in  their  parlor.  Before  they  parted  the  ladies 
had  consented  to  accompany  him  on  the  morrow  to  this 
spot,  of  which  he  was  going  to  complete  a  sketch.  So 
does  friendship  ripen  when  the  right  sun-light  falls 
upon  it. 

They  came  hither ;  the  artist  fixed  his  easel  and 
wrought  on  his  sketch.  Helen,  seated  at  the  foot  of 
this  maple,  read  "  Undine "  to  her  aunt.  But  both 
found  an  interval  to  wander  up  the  glen ;  so  with  read- 
ing, sketching,  romancing,  —  and  most  likely  eating  — 
the  day  wore  away  and  the  night  came,  —  a  moonlight 
night  and  a  moonlight  ride  home. 

Some  days  passed,  in  which  M.  gained  hugely  in  the 
good  opinion  of  his  fair  friends,  who  continually  teased 
him  for  a  sight  of  his  sketch  —  which  he  declared 
should  not  be  seen  until  it  was  completed.  Thus 
something  of  an  air  of  mystery  had  woven  itself 
around  the  picture  when  at  last  he  brought  it  out, 
altogether  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knows  he  has 
done  a  nice  thing,  and  is  rather  proud  to  have  the 
world  see  it. 

Never  was  pride  more  completely  dashed,  or  lover 
more  completely  puzzled.  Helen  blushed  and  smiled, 
but  looked  strangely  and  heartily  vexed.  The  guardian 
aunt  frowned  unequivocally  —  not  to  say  scowled.  Poor 
M.  turned  from  one  to  the  other  in  most  innocent  and 
ludicrous  bewilderment ;  but  finally  settled  down  into  a 
fixed  consideration  of  the  cloud  which  had  so  suddenly 
gathered  on  the  old  lady's  brow,  —  as  a  Summer  storm 
sometimes  will  over  the  placid  surface  of  Lake  Ashley. 
The  Summer  storm  is  transient,  but  Miss  M.  seemed 
to  have  an  inexhaustible  magazine  of  wrath  behind 


undine's  gorge.  23 

her  wrinkled  forehead.  So,  taking  a  hint  from  Helen's 
eye,  at  the  first  growl  of  the  thunder  M.  fled. 

The  tempest  was  hrewed  in  this  wise.  The  good 
old  lady,  with  all  her  romance  and  stateliness,  had  a 
spice  of  puritanism  about  her,  and  the  special  phase  in 
which  it  shewed  itself  was  a  prudish  modesty  in  the 
matter  of  pictures.  Why  it  took  this  form,  more  than 
any  other,  might  be  discovered,  perhaps,  if  we  could 
pry  into  the  crooks  and  crannies  of  her  early  history. 
At  present  it  only  concerns  us  to  know  that  it  was 
there,  and  that  in  consequence  of  it  she  issued  a  husky 
edict  for  M.  to  "  take  his  vile  picture  hence." 

Now  this  vile  painting  was  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a  simple  and  spirited  sketch  of  this  scene,  into 
which  the  artist  had  interwoven  a  portrait  of  Helen  in 
the  character  of  Undine.  All  very  well  —  only  the 
painter,  with  the  modest  assurance  of  his  art,  had 
changed  the  maiden's  chaste  garb  for  a  bit  of  flimsy 
drapery,  which  displayed  the  ivory  neck  and  swelling 
bosom,  the  taper  leg  and  rosy  foot,  as  circumstantially 
as  though  he  had  had  the  original  all  the  while  before 
him  for  a  model.  O  fair  and  false  imagination,  to  steal 
away  so  fair  and  true  a  reality ! 

Miss  M.  would  have  thought  her  ward's  character 
altogether  compromised  by  interchanging  a  word  more 
with  the  immoral  young  man  M.  had  proved  himself, 
in  her  estimation.  Helen  thought  quite  otherwise. 
Fortunately  for  M.,  there  was  another  difference  in 
their  notions.  The  aunt  loved  her  morning  pillow  — 
the  niece  her  morning  walk,  —  and  this  taste  of  the 
damsel's  now  acquired  a  new  strength  that  would  have 
charmed  Dr.  Alcott.     In  another  point  of  view  these 


24  TAGUCONIC. 


sunrise  excursions  to  South  Mountain  and  Mcllville's 
Lake  might  have  been  thought  alarmingly  frequent. 
The  young  lady  could  not  have  been  expected  or  de- 
sired to  make  her  walks  solitary,  but  one  who  saw  how 
demurely  they  met  at  the  breakfast  table  would  not  have 
surmised  that  the  painter  had  been  her  companion  an 
hour  before. 

But  the  end  was  not  yet ;  walking,  it  seems,  would  not 
content  them, —  they  must  ride  as  well.  So  one  balmy 
morning  in  the  grey  twilight,  a  pair  of  spirited  greys 
were  reined  up  at  the  south  door  of  the  Berkshire 
House,  while  our  young  friends  took  their  places  be- 
hind them  ;  and  then  heigho  for  Lebanon  !  "  They  '11 
have  fleet  steeds  that  follow,  quoth  young  Lochinvar." 
Gallant  champions  of  Love,  these  same  fiery  greys ! 
Before  then  and  since  they  have  borne  beating  hearts 
up  the  hills  and  down  the  valleys  of  that  seven  miles 
of  Hymen's  highway  which  lie  between  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  puritan  publishment  laws  and  the  marriage  en- 
couraging State  of  New  York.  I  wonder  if  any  where 
in  this  western  world  more  visions  of  happiness  have 
been  dreamed,  more  passionate  pulsations  throbbed, 
than  between  the  tall  Elm  of  Pittsfield  and  the  all- 
curing  Springs  of  Lebanon.  The  very  murmurs  of 
the  groves  have  caught  the  soft  tones  of  lover's  vows ; 
the  sparkling  streams  reflect  the  ardent  gleam  of  ex- 
pectant bridegroom's  eyes. 

Over  this  hymenial  highway  that  balmy  morning 
our  happy  couple  Avere  rapidly  whirled,  and  before  the 
sun  was  up,  the  words  were  said  which  bound  them 
in  that  union  which  no  words  can  unloose.  I  doubt 
if  their    steeds   were    urged   as  impatiently  on    their 


LAKE    ASHLEY.  25 


return,  but  they  reached  their  hotel  again  while  the 
careless  guardian,  fatigued  with  the  last  night's  novel, 
yet  slept.  How  they  ever  reconciled  matters  with  her 
I  never  heard ;  but  it  was  done,  for  last  week  she  sat 
quietly  by,  while  M.,  in  a  little  recessed  back  parlor  in 
Brooklyn,  told  me  the  story  of  his  wooing.  On  the 
wall,  too,  he  pointed  out  to  me  the  identical  "vile 
painting ;"  and  by  her  mother's  side  a  little  Undine  of 
eight  Summers  shook  her  sunny  curls  and  laughed.  I 
do  n't  think  the  painter  ever  regretted  his  day's  sketch- 
ing in  the  wild  glen  he  christened  "  Undine's  Gorge." 

The  story  told,  and  a  bumper  drained  to  the  health 
of  the  heroine,  —  again  up,  still  up  the  cool  gorge,  till 
it  diverged  to  the  north,  while  our  path  lay  southward 
Reclaiming  our  team,  we  now  soon  reached  the  summit 
and  looked  down  upon  the  wild,  billowy  sea  of  moun- 
tains, which  stretched  far  away  to  the  north-east,  —  a 
taller  peak  sometimes  dashing  its  splintered  crest  into 
the  air,  and  a  white  village  spire  or  a  red  farm-house 
appearing  here  and  there  a  floating  waif  upon  the 
waste.  Upon  a  lofty  point,  miles  away,  sat  the  pretty 
village  of  Middlefield,  glittering  in  the  sun-light  and 
looking  like  a  white  walled  Moorish  town  among  the 
Alpuxuras. 

Turning  away  at  last  from  this  majestic  overview, 
we  passed  down  a  rustic  road  which  leads  to  the  south, 
and  were  soon  riding  along  the  borders  of  Lake  Ashley 
—  a  little  romantic  loch  which  lies  upon  the  summit  of 
the  mountain.  It  is  indeed  a  most  exquisite  sheet  of 
water.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  cold,  pure  serenity 
of  its  dark  waves.  Lined  on  all  sides  but  one  by 
2* 


26  TAGHCONIC. 


unbroken  woods,  fed  only  by  fountains  which  gush  from 
below,  with  neither  speck  nor  boat  on  all  its  tranquil 
surface,  it  seemed,  as  we  rode  slowly  along  its  eastern 
border,  the  waters  of  solitude.  It  should  be  so ;  for 
since  the  Indians'  graceful  bark  is  gone  forever,  there 
remains  none  which  would  not  do  violence  to  the  lonely 
beauty  of  the  scene.  We  call  it  Lake  Ashley  —  a 
pretty  name  enough,  but  none  worthy  of  it  could  come 
except  from  an  Indian  imagination  and  in  the  soft 
syllables  of  the  native  tongue,  like  those  in  which  that 
more  magnificent  mountain  lake  was  called  Winnee- 
pissaukee  —  (not  "Winnepiseoga  )  —  the  smile  of  God. 

In  long,  delicious  draughts  we  drank  deep  to  the 
mountain  maids  and  the  maids  of  the  valley,  —  to  the 
spirits  of  air,  earth,  and  water,  —  not  forgetting  those 
enterprising  gentlemen  who  propose  to  lead  these  wa- 
ters from  their  aerie  home  to  the  doors  of  the  people  of 
Pittsfield.  To  these  gentlemen,  and  through  them  to 
Dr.  Jackson,  I  am  indebted  for  the  assurance  that  this 
water  is  as  pure  as  it  seems  to  be  —  that  is,  the  nearest 
natural  approach  to  distilled  water. 

East  of  the  Lake,  a  little  round  well-wooded  noppit 
rises,  and  ascending  it  we  found  a  bed  of  very  pure 
and  beautiful  granular  quartz,  which  used  to  be  worked 
for  the  use  of  the  eastern  glass  manufacturers,  but  is 
long  since  abandoned,  on  account  of  the  far  greater 
abundance,  as  well  as  facilities  for  transportation  and 
working,  in  other  localities. 

Upon  the  northern  side  of  the  noppit  is  piled  a  rug- 
ged heap  of  those  flint  boulders,  so  frequent  in  this 
region.  A  few  curious  lichens  grow  upon  them,  and 
in  the  crevices  some  beautiful  wild  flowers.     Taking 


ATMOSPHERIC    CHANGES.  27 

specimens  of  these,  as  well  as  the  quartz,  and  drinking 
one  farewell  draught  at  the  Lake,  we  began  our  return. 

As  we  descended,  a  succession  of  fine  views  of  the 
valley  of  the  Ilousatonic  presented  themselves.  Now 
the  cultivated  interval,  then  the  green  hills  of  Tagh- 
conic,  and  still  beyond  the  blue  and  cloud-like  summits 
of  the  Kaatskills. 

It  is  from  this  hill  some  of  the  most  beautiful  effects 
of  atmospheric  changes  are  observed,  —  and  here  the 
sea  of  mist  filling  the  valley  and  then  rolling  up  its 
sides,  like  the  breaking  up  of  the  great  deep,  astonishes 
the  gazer.  A  gentleman  tells  me  that  travellers,  after 
having  the  road  to  Pittsfield  pointed  out  to  them,  often 
inquire  how  they  are  to  cross  the  Lake  —  so  completely 
deceptive  is  the  veil  of  mist. 


CHAPTER     III. 

ROARING   BROOK. TORIES'    GLEN. —  AND 

SOMETHING   ABOUT   THE    TORIES. 

"  Every  State  and  almost  every  county  of  New 
England  has  its  Roaring  Brook  —  a  mountain  stream- 
let, overhung  by  woods,  impeded  by  a  mill,  encumbered 
by  fallen  trees,  but  ever  rushing,  racing,  roaring  down 
through  gurgling  gullies  and  filling  the  forest  with  its 
delicious  sound  and  freshness ;  the  drinking  places  of 
home  returning  herds ;  the  mysterious  haunts  of  squir- 
rels and  blue  jays ;  the  sylvan  retreat  of  school  boys, 
who  frequent  it  in  the  Summer  holidays  and  mingle 
their  restless  thoughts  with  its  restless,  exuberant,  and 
rejoicing  stream." 

Thus  speaks  Professor  Longfellow,  of  one  of  the 
prettiest  elements  in  our  native  scenery.  Our  Roaring 
Brook  I  think  must  be  familiar  to  the  poet.  Indeed,  it 
is  shrewdly  suspected  that  it  is  the  original  of  that 
where  Churchill  and  Kavanagh  passed  so  delightful  a 
day  with  Cecilia,  Alice,  and  the  schoolmaster's  wife ;  if 
not,  it  might  very  well  have  been. 

Issuing  from  Lake  Ashley,  it  comes  leaping  and 
dashing  down  the  deep  and  rocky  ravine,  smiling  in 
sunshine  and  glooming  in  shade,  —  all  the  while  roar- 
ing in  a  way  fully  to  justify  its  noisy  cognomen, — 


THE    HAMLET.  29 


although  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  it  would  be  more 
poetic  to  call  it  the  "  Lion  Brook,"  which  would  include 
in  the  metaphor  its  shaggy  mane  of  forest  trees,  and 
the  gaping  jaws  of  the  gorge,  —  which,  by  the  bye,  Ave 
once  christened  the  "jaws  of  darkness,"  to  the  fierce 
indignation  of  a  fair  friend. 

One  warm  October  day,  a  three  mile  walk  brought 
us  to  a  smiling  and  fertile  valley,  which  lies  just  with- 
out the  mouth  of  the  Tories'  Gorge,  through  which 
our  Roaring  Brook  comes  tumbling  down.  We  were 
charmed  by  the  cheerful  aspect  of  the  farm-houses, 
which  were  here  gathered  into  a  neat  and  handsome 
hamlet.  From  the  courteous  and  intelligent  manner  of 
the  people,  we  were  not  surprised  to  learn  that  their 
village  was  within  the  limits  of  the  town  of  Lenox. 
So  gaily  the  sunshine  fell  upon  the  shorn  fields,  so 
cheerily  the  husbandmen  were  employed  in  completing 
their  harvesting,  and  such  a  genial  spirit  of  plenty 
seemed  to  pervade  the  whole  scene,  that  we  were 
tempted  to  commit  the  sentimental  folly  of  calling  it 
the  "  happy  valley." 

Following  a  bye-path  kindly  pointed  out  to  us,  and 
guided  by  the  sounds  of  the  Brook,  we  soon  entered  the 
dark  shades  of  the  gorge,  through  which  it  comes  leap- 
ing impatiently  from  fall  to  fall,  for  five  weary  miles, 
until  it  loses  itself  in  the  winding  Housatonic.  It  must 
be  a  sweet  relief  to  the  water  —  vexed  and  wearied  by 
its  rough  passage  among  the  sharp  angled  flint  rocks, 
and  by  its  arduous  labors  in  turning  mill  wheels  —  thus 
to  repose  at  length  in  the  flower  bordered  bed  of  the 
river,  and  wander  about  the  meadows,  in  what  leisurely 
and  Graceful  curves  it  will. 


30  TAGIICOXIC. 


The  change  from  the  cheerful  light  of  the  hamlet  to 
the  wild  and  beautiful  solitude  within  the  gorge,  is  strik- 
ingly impressive.  From  the  shadeless  field  you  enter 
upon  overarched  paths,  —  among  mossy  trees,  tall,  pre- 
cipitous cliffs,  and  broken,  topling  crags.  The  heart 
feels  the  change  instantly,  and  conforms  itself  instinc- 
tively to  it. 

Here  we  find  those  adamantine  blocks  of  flint-rock 
which  characterize  and  rudely  adorn  this  whole  moun- 
tain range.  Sometimes  they  lie  confusedly  upon  the 
mountain's  steep  slope,  then  again  they  impede  the 
rushing  course  of  the  brook.  In  the  bed  of  the  stream 
the  ever-rolling  current,  in  the  course  of  ages,  has  pol- 
ished and  rounded  even  these  obdurate  masses.  It  is 
startling  to  think  by  how  many  years  of  constant  attri- 
tion the  soft  flowing  wave  has  accomplished  its  purpose. 
How  many  centuries  ago  did  the  savage  stoop  to  drink 
at  this  mountain  stream,  and  think  of  nothing  but  the 
cooling  draught  —  least  of  all  that  the  smooth,  gliding 
fluid  was  bearing  away  a  portion  of  the  solid  rock 
whereon  he  stood,  to  form  a  soil  for  a  conquering  race  ! 
Yet  here,  two  thousand  years  ago,  Nature  kept  some 
million  tons  of  water  at  work,  to  add  a  few  ounces  in 
the  year  to  what  should  be  the  farm  of  her  true  wor- 
shipper—  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes.  Meanwhile  the 
poet's  ancestors  were  roasting  people  at  Stonehenge,  by 
great  baskets'-full,  —  far  less  mindful  than  Mother  Na- 
ture of  their  witty  and  polished  descendant. 

Upon  either  side  the  ravine  these  rocks  are  piled  up 
on  the  hill  sides  in  the  maddest  confusion,  —  with  crev- 
ices and  dens  between  and  beneath  them,  which  in  for- 
mer days  may  have  afforded  accommodation  for  a  whole 


THE    TORIES.  31 


city  of  wild  beasts.  I  wearied  myself  with  seeking 
among  them  for  one  cavern,  which  tradition  says  in 
revolutionary  times  afforded  shelter  to  the  hunted  Tories. 
I  might  have  saved  myself  some  trouble  and  chagrin, 
by  paying  closer  attention  to  my  directions,  for  I  could 
not  satisfy  myself  of  its  locality,  and  was  afterwards 
informed  that  it  is  not  on  the  hill-side  at  all,  but  under 
the  road  over  which  I  passed,  —  and  although  likely  to 
escape  observation,  perfectly  easy  of  access  when  you 
once  know  the  way. 

One  of  the  Tories  —  thus  driven  out  to  make  their 
homes  among  wild  beasts  —  must  nevertheless  have 
been  a  kind  man  at  heart.  They  tell  a  touching  inci- 
dent of  him,  that,  when  concealed  in  some  hiding  place 
at  home,  he  made  his  Avife  cause  all  his  children  to  pass 
daily  before  a  crevice,  which  supplied  him  with  light 
and  air,  that  he  might  see  their  innocent  faces,  and 
know  that  no  harm  had  befallen  them. 

With  all  the  harshness  which  it  was  deemed  neces- 
sary by  the  Whigs  to  visit  upon  them,  and  with  all  the 
odium  which  still  clings  to  their  memoiy,  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  many  of  the  loyalists  were  good,  well- 
meaning,  God-fearing  men, —  although  we  cannot  doubt 
that  the  majority  were  moved  by  craven  and  selfish 
considerations,  and  that  all  were  miserably  mistaken. 
It  is  a  mistake  very  easily  discovered  now. 

Some  of  the  anecdotes  which  remain  of  the  Tories, 
among  our  Berkshire  traditions,  are  very  honorable  to 
their  character  as  men.  There  are  two,  which  I  heard 
from  two  of  our  most  eminent  and  learned  citizens,  and 
which  they  received  from  the  best  authority — I  believe 
from  the  late  venerable  Judpre  Walker  —  which  are  so 


32  TAGIICONIC. 


well  authenticated  and  so  characteristic  that  I  shall  tell 
them  both  —  although  the  latter  I  think  I  saw,  many 
years  ago,  in  print  —  and  with  a  few  variations,  in  un- 
important particulars. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  Revolution  there  lived  in 
Lenox  a  staunch  old  Tory,  who  openly  professed  his 
allegiance  to  King  George,  and  his  hostility  to  the 
rebel  cause ;  but,  as  he  confined  his  opposition  to  words, 
and  was  greatly  respected  and  beloved  by  his  fellow 
citizens,  for  his  many  excellent  qualities  as  a  friend  and 
neighbor,  he  was  allowed  for  a  long  while  to  enjoy  his 
opinions  unmolested.  But  the  contest  between  England 
and  the  Colonies  waxed  every  day  more  bitter,  and  the 
Committee  of  Safety  began  to  be  troubled  with  doubts 
if  it  were  consistent  with  their  duty  to  permit  one  who 
so  loudly  vaunted  his  toryism  to  live  among  them,  and 
encourage  others  to  commit  outrages  of  which  he  would 
not  be  personally  guilty. 

The  matter  was  often  a  subject  of  deliberation,  but 
the  committee  were  reluctant  to  act.  At  length,  how- 
ever, in  some  dark  and  trying  hour,  —  perhaps  in  the 
bitterness  of  defeat,  perhaps  after  hearing  of  the  hor- 
rors of  "Wyoming  —  they  resolved  to  move.  Paying  a 
visit  at  once  to  the  Tory,  they  informed  him  they  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  his  example  was  too  perni- 
cious to  the  cause  of  Liberty  to  be  any  longer  permit- 
ted. They  regretted  the  circumstance,  but  their  duty 
was  imperative ;  in  short,  he  must  take  the  oath  of 
allegiance  to  the  Colonies  —  or  swing. 

The  oath  was  peremptorily  and  unhesitatingly  re- 
fused ;  and  the  next  step  was  an  extemporaneous  gal- 
lows, erected  in  the  public  street,  beneath  which  the 


THE    OLD    TORY.  33 


recusant  was  placed,  and  the  rope  tightened  around  his 
throat,  but  immediately  loosened  and  the  oath  again 
proffered,  and  again  declined. 

All  arguments  and  threats  proving  abortive,  the  con- 
temptuous loyalist  was  again  drawn  up,  and  left  to 
hang  until  he  became  purple  in  the  face,  —  care  being 
taken  to  lower  him  and  apply  restoratives,  before  life 
was  extinct.  Consciousness  being  once  more  restored, 
the  oath  was  again  tendered,  and  he  was  entreated  to 
yield  to  the  necessity  of  the  case,  but  his  stubborn 
spirit  was  not  yet  broken ;  he  refused  to  renounce  his 
allegiance  to  the  Crown. 

Things  were  now  coming  to  a  crisis ;  the  committee, 
who  probably  were  by  this  time  sorry  they  had  taken 
the  matter  in  hand,  retired  for  consultation.  It  was 
resolved  that,  to  retreat  after  going  so  far  as  they  had 
done,  would  weaken  their  authority,  and  that  the  good 
of  the  cause  required  that  the  prisoner  should  take  the 
oath,  or  suffer  death  for  his  contumacy. 

The  loyalist  received  their  decision  with  unflinching 
determination  not  to  yield  a  hair's  breadth  in  what  he 
believed  to  be  the  right.  The  committee  were  equally 
resolved,  and  he  was  again  drawn  up,  —  perhaps  with 
some  angry  violence.  At  once  the  limbs  stiffened ;  the 
arms  hung  down ;  it  seemed  the  work  of  death  was  too 
faithfully  done.  Probably  the  committee  had  not  in- 
tended to  carry  the  matter  to  such  an  extreme ;  if  they 
did,  such  a  sight  might  well  have  brought  back  their 
old  affection  for  a  tried  friend  and  kind  neighbor. 
They  hastened  to  cut  down  the  body,  and  use  every 
effort  to  undo  their  fatal  work. 

There  seemed  at  first  little  hope  of  reanimating  the 
3 


34  TAGHCONIC. 


senseless  clay ;  but  at  length  the  limbs  slightly  relaxed 
their  rigidity,  the  eyes  moved,  and  the  livid  hue  began 
to  disappear  from  the  cheek.  Consciousness  slowly 
and  painfully  returned  ;  the  victim  sat  upright,  —  and 
the  question  was  again  asked  :  u  Will  you  swear  ?  " 
"  Yes,"  faintly  responded  the  half-dead  convert  to  pat- 
riotism. 

A  few  moments  afterwards,  as  he  was  sitting  before 
the  tavern  fire,  warming  his  limbs  chilled  by  so  danger- 
ous an  approach  to  the  "  icy  realm,"  he  was  heard  to 
mutter,  thoughtfully  to  himself,  — "  Well !  this  is  a 
hard  way  to  make  Whigs  —  but  it  '11  do  it !  " 

And  accordingly,  from  that  day  to  the  close  of  the 
war,  he  was  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  unwavering 
of  the  patriots. 

The  other  anecdote  illustrates  still  more  remarkably 
the  same  trait  of  unflinching  regard  to  rectitude. 

It  seems  that  at  some  time  during  the  Revolution 
one  Gideon  Smith,  of  Tyringham  —  a  romantic  and 
beautiful  town  in  the  south  of  Berkshire  —  was  accused 
of  the  crime  of  high  treason,  of  which  there  could  be 
no  doubt  he  was  guilty.  The  trial  was  to  be  at  Spring- 
field, but  the  court  did  not  sit  for  some  weeks, —  during 
which  interval  Smith  was  confined  in  the  Berkshire 
County  gaol, —  but,  unwilling  to  waste  the  time  in  idle- 
ness, he  applied  to  the  Sheriff  for  permission  to  go  out 
daily  to  work,  promising  to  return  faithfully  to  the 
prison  every  night.  So  well  was  the  Tory's  character 
for  integrity  established,  that,  although  he  was  commit- 
ted on  a  capital  charge,  and  did  not  deny  the  facts 
alleged  against  him,  the  Sheriff  did  not  hesitate  to 
comply  with  his  request ;  and  so  well  was  that  con- 


a  tory's  integrity.  35 

fidence  deserved,  that  the  prisoner  never  failed  to 
return  to  his  quarters  punctually  every  night,  to  he 
locked  up. 

What  follows  is  a  still  stronger  proof  of  the  reliance 
placed  upon  his  word.  The  court  was  to  be  held  at 
Springfield,  and  the  journey  to  it  was  then  a  weary 
one,  over  rough  forest  roads.  Smith  was  the  only  pris- 
oner to  be  carried  on,  and  the  Sheriff  complained  bit- 
terly of  the  trouble  to  which  he  was  subjected,  particu- 
larly at  this  busy  season  of  the  year.  The  Tory  told 
him  that  it  was  quite  unnecessary  for  him  to  go  —  he 
could  go  just  as  well  by  himself;  and  again  he  was 
trusted,  and  set  out  alone  and  on  foot,  to  go  fifty  miles 
through  the  woods  to  surrender  himself  to  be  tried  for 
his  life,  upon  a  charge  where  he  could  not  hope  for  an 
acquital,  and  by  a  tribunal  whose  right  to  judge  him  he 
denied.  Surely,  if  ever  a  man  had  an  excuse  to  pal- 
liate a  violation  of  confidence,  it  was  he ;  the  idea, 
however,  seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  him. 

Luckily  for  him,  on  his  way  he  was  overtaken  by 
the  Hon.  Mr.  Edwards,  then  a  member  of  the  execu- 
tive council,  to  attend  a  session  of  which  body  he  was 
then  on  his  way  to  Boston.  This  gentleman  entered 
into  conversation  with  Smith,  and,  without  disclosing 
his  own  name  or  official  position,  learned  the  nature  of 
his  companion's  journey,  and  something  of  his  history. 
Pondering  upon  what  he  had  heard,  Mr.  Edwards  pur- 
sued his  way  to  Boston  ;  and  Smith,  trudging  on,  soon 
reached  Springfield,  and  surrendered  himself,  —  was 
tried ;  did  not  deny  the  facts  alleged  against  him,  and, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  was  found  guilty  and  condemned 
to  death. 


3G  TAGHCONIC. 


In  due  course  the  petitions  for  the  pardon  of  persons 
under  sentence  of  death  were  considered  by  the  Hon- 
orable Council.  After  all  had  been  read,  Mr.  Edwards 
asked  if  none  had  been  received  in  favor  of  one  Gideon 
Smith,  of  Tyringham.  The  reply  was  that  there  was 
none ;  and  a  member  of  the  council,  who  had  been 
present  at  the  trial,  remarked  that  the  case  was  one  of 
such  undoubted  and  aggravated  guilt,  and  the  attach- 
ment of  the  criminal  to  the  King's  cause  so  inveterate, 
that  there  could  be  no  reason  for  granting  a  pardon  in 
this  case,  unless  it  was  extended  in  every  other. 

Mr.  Edwards,  in  reply,  related  his  adventure  with 
Smith  on  the  road,  and  also  his  story,  which  he  had 
taken  pains  to  have  substantiated  by  the  Sheriff  of 
Berkshire.  A  murmur  of  admiration  went  round  the 
council  board ;  it  was  unanimously  agreed  that  such  a 
man  ought  not  to  die  upon  the  gallows,  and  after  some 
brief  discussion,  an  unconditional  pardon  was  made  out 
and  dispatched  to  Springfield. 

The  number  of  Tories  in  this  region  is  said  to  have 
been  much  greater  than  I  used  to  suppose.  The  gorges 
in  the  Taghconic  range,  between  Hancock  and  Lanes- 
boro',  were  favorite  rendezvous  with  them.  Previous 
to  one  battle  —  I  think  that  of  Bennington  — just  one 
half  of  one  company  deserted  the  Continental  standard 
and  joined  the  enemy.  Probably  they  considered  their 
position,  after  the  engagement,  more  astonishing  than 
agreeable. 

Yet,  as  I  said,  the  anecdotes  just  repeated  show,  what 
common  sense  would  lead  us  to  expect,  that  there  were 
good  men  and  well-wishers  to  their  country  in  the  loy- 
alist ranks.     The  worst  cause   is   never  without   $rood 


LOYALTY.  37 

men  among  its  partizans,  nor  the  best  without  bad.  It 
must  be  so  while  reason  dwells  side  by  side  in  the  soul 
with  prejudice. 

When  sides  had  once  been  taken,  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  dawning  struggle  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  things 
did  not  so  clearly  appear  to  men,  blinded  by  the  heat  of 
passion,  as  to  us  in  the  calmness  of  after  years,  and 
with  all  the  light  of  experience.  Besides,  powerful 
motives  —  too  little  taken  into  account  in  the  great 
aggregate  —  influence  individual  minds  with  irresistible 
force.  One  is  descended  from  a  long  line  of  loyal  an- 
cestors, and  the  idea  is  interwoven  with  his  Avhole  life 
that  his  first  duty  to  God  and  man  is  to  maintain  the 
family  honor  untarnished  by  rebellion.  It  may  be  a 
false,  very  false  notion,  but  it  has  had  its  thousand  mar- 
tyrs in  other  days.  Another  has  received  some  loyal 
boon  that  binds  him  —  if  of  a  generous  nature  —  for 
ever  to  the  cause  of  the  giver.  Another  was  taught 
by  a  long  lost  mother  to  fear  God  and  honor  the  King ; 
and  still  he  hears  her  gentle  accents  repeat  the  time- 
honored  prayer,  "  God  save  the  King." 

These  may  be  thought  weak  and  unworthy  motives, 
to  be  weighed  in  the  balance  against  a  nation's  welfare, 
yet  they  did  exist,  and  we  cannot  altogether  despise  or 
hate  those  who,  in  obedience  to  them,  took  part  even 
against  our  own  liberty,  and  bore  the  loathed  name  of 
Tory. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PONTOOSUC  LAKE  AND  ROLLING  ROCK. 

O  thou  most  rare  day  in  June,  whose  rain  of  golden 
moments  fell  so  preciously  by  the  green  borders  of 
Pontoosuc  !  There  shall  be  few  like  thee,  in  the  glad- 
dest Summer  month ! 

With  L.  and  two  other  friends  from  the  dear  Tri- 
Mountain  city,  I  went  that  faultless  morning  to  pass 
the  "lee  lang  Simmer  day"  by  the  clear  waters  of 
our  favorite  mountain  lake,  —  the  popular  favorite,  for, 
fair  as  it  is,  I  confess  that  it  has  one  rival  in  my  own 
breast.  But  this  is  beautiful  enough  to  satisfy  any 
desire.  There  can  be  no  finer  approach  to  a  fine  scene 
than  that  by  which  you  reach  Pontoosuc,  —  of  which, 
by  the  bye,  the  true  Indian  name  was  Schoon-keek- 
moon-keek.  Passing  the  neat  and  tasteful  manufactur- 
ing village,  you  enter  a  piece  of  winding  willow-shaded 
road,  on  the  left  of  which  the  ground  descends  steeply 
to  the  rocky  bed  of  the  river,  which  a  few  rods  further 
on  falls  in  a  cataract,  whose  worst  fault  is  that  it  is 
artificial.  One  not  too  finically  fastidious  might  find  it 
Avorthy  a  moment's  notice. 

Then  comes  the  blue  surface  of  the  lake,  in  mirror 
like  smoothness,  or  sparkling  in  light,  —  broken  only 
by  a  pair  of  emerald  islets.     You  catch  your  first  view 


PONTOOSUC    LAKE.  39 

of  the  water  between  hills  covered  with  a  magnificent 
growth  of  pine ;  with,  upon  one  side,  here  and  there  an 
elm  and  beech.  As  you  pass  through  these  woody 
portals,  the  view  expands ;  the  farther  shore  of  the 
lake  rises  gradually  into  hills,  until  afar  off  in  the  west 
it  terminates  in  the  graceful  Taghconics,  —  every  sum- 
mit of  which,  on  a  calm,  clear  day,  is  mirrored  undis- 
torted  in  the  unruffled  water.  On  the  north  the  long 
valley  stretches  away  until  it  finds  its  barriers  in  the 
double  peaks  of  Greylock.  You  will  pause,  as  we  did, 
by  the  two  trees  which  stand  in  brotherly  union  on  the 
green  lawn-like  slope  of  the  eastern  bank  of  the  lake, 
and  admire  the  almost  artistic  arrangement  of  the 
stately  grove  of  pines,  the  single  elm,  and  the  twin  oaks 
and  hemlocks. 

Driving  slowly  along  the  road,  with  the  gently  rip- 
pling waters  upon  our  left,  and  the  cool  evergreen 
grove  upon  our  right,  we  stopped  here  and  there,  to 
gather  splendid  bouquets  of  the  scarlet  columbine,  and 
to  listen  to  the  chorus  of  the  birds,  that  joined  with 
most  melodious  energy  in  the  songs  of  M.  and  P. 

At  the  end  of  the  lake,  sending  our  carriage  before, 
we  retraced  our  steps,  lingering  by  the  pebbly  shore  to 
listen  to  the  little  dashings  of  the  wavelets,  which 
simultaneously  reminded  us  all  of  the  beatings  of  the 
great  billows  on  the  rocky  Atlantic  shore,  one  other 
Summer  day.  It  was  singular,  this  mimicking  of  the 
great  sea  by  the  little  mountain  loch.  F.  said  it  re- 
minded her  how  she  was  once  startled  by  recognising 
the  tones  of  a  distinguished  orator  in  the  lispings  of 
his  infant  grandson. 

As  we  stood  here,  we  espied  across  the  water  a  tiny 


40  TAGHCONIC 


grove,  well  known  to  all  our  lovers  of  pic-nic.  This 
we  determined  to  honor  hy  making  it  our  bower  for  the 
morning,  and  we  soon  established  ourselves  under  its 
shade,  with  L.'s  flute,  F.'s  guitar,  and  a  plentiful  supply 
of  creature  comforts.  There,  with  music,  poetry,  dining, 
and  more  indefinable  pleasures,  we  passed  five  hours, 
which  are  not  lightly  to  be  forgotten  in  lives  which 
have  few  such.  I  need  not  describe  to  you  all  our  lake 
side  joys.  Go  thither  upon  such  a  day  and  in  such 
company,  and,  if  you  do  not  find  them  out,  never  go 
again. 

There  are  fanciful  legends  about  this  lake ;  one  of 
which  is  admirably  told  by  Rev.  Dr.  Todd.  There  is 
a  superstitious  tale,  also,  that  a  shadowy  bark  with  a 
shadowy  boatman  is  sometimes  seen  to  glide  over  its 
midnight  waters,  darting  from  point  to  point,  as  if  in 
search  of  that  which  it  is  doomed  never  to  find.  What 
it  is  this  restless  phantom  seeks  —  whether  lost  love  or 
hidden  foe,  I  do  not  think  that  legends  tell.  I  have 
often  passed  that  way  at  the  "  witching  hour  of  night ;" 
some  times  when  the  pale  moonbeams  threw  their 
ghastly  light  all  over  the  waters,  and  shrieks  and  howls 
were  heard,  which  it  was  past  my  zoology  to  assign  to 
any  beast,  bird,  or  reptile,  —  sometimes  when  the  fish- 
ing skiffs,  with  the  red  glare  of  their  torches,  looked 
sufficiently  infernal,  —  but,  for  the  phantom  boatman,  I 
cannot  rightly  say  I  ever  caught  sight  of  his  ghostship. 

When  the  day  had  a  little  declined,  we  resolved  to 
extend  our  excursion.  A  mile  or  so  to  the  north  there 
is  a  very  extraordinary  natural  curiosity.  In  a  grove 
upon  the  land  of  Socrates  Squires,  Esq.,  is  a  large 
egg  shaped  stone,  weighing  many  tons.     This  titanic 


ROLLING    ROCK.  41 


mass  is  so  nicely  balanced  upon  a  pivot  of  a  few  inches 
width,  that,  although  to  the  eye  one  side  appears  more 
than  doubly  to  outbalance  the  other,  through  all  con- 
vulsions and  commotions  of  Nature,  it  remains  un- 
moved and  immovable.  How  this  singular  rock  came 
perched  in  its  present  position,  and  how  it  maintains  its 
equilibrium,  there  must  remain  a  secret.  The  wise 
ones  guess  it  to  be  a  relic  of  the  Flood,  but  are  divided 
in  opinion  whether  the  rushing  waters  found  it  in  its 
present  position  and  merely  washed  away  the  surround- 
ing earth,  or  whether  they  tore  it  from  some  distant 
native  bed,  and  set  it  up  here  as  a  trophy  of  their  vic- 
torious career.  There  were  too  many  matters  of  ab- 
sorbing interest  pressing  upon  the  people  of  that  day* 
for  them  to  take  note  even  of  so  extraordinary  a  pebble 
as  this.  There  is  a  tradition  extant  that  this  was  used 
by  the  aborigines  for  one  of  their  sacrifice  rocks.  —  I 
do  not  know  upon  what  authority  it  rests,  but  it  is  well 
enough  to  believe  it,  if  you  can.  One  thing  is  certain, 
the  anomalous  nature  of  this  rock  never  disturbed  their 
simple  meditations ;  they  had  a  ready  solution  for  all 
such  problems,  —  it  was  the  work  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

To  this  singular  rock  we  came,  on  that  beautiful 
afternoon  in  June.  Passing  again  the  lake  side,  we 
turned  off  by  a  cross  road  towards  the  west,  and  rolled 
through  a  quiet,  rural  country,  whose  fields  and  cattle, 
even  where  houses  and  barns,  seemed  as  much  in  exu- 
berant enjoyment  of  the  day  as  ourselves. 


"  Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might,— 

An  instinct  within  it  that  readies  and  towers, 
And,  grasping  blindly  above  It  for  light, 
Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers ; 


42  TAGnCONIC. 


The  flash  of  life  may  well  be  seen 

Thrilling  back,  over  hills  and  valleys; 
The  cowslip  startles  in  meadows  green ; 

The  buttercup  catches  the  sun  in  its  chalice, 
And  there  's  never  a  leaf  or  a  bud  too  mean 

To  be  some  happy  creature's  palace." 

Lowell. 


We  found  a  splendid  view  in  various  directions,  from 
a  hill  on  this  road.  The  Lake  has  a  wilder  picturesque- 
ness  from  this  point  than  from  any  other,  and  the  view 
in  front  of  the  Taghconics  is  very  fine. 

When  the  sun  wanted  an  hour  of  his  setting,  we 
passed  a  few  scattered  chesnut  trees  and  entered  the 
grove  where  is  concealed  our  sphinx.  M.  rushed  to  it 
with  a  merry  laugh,  declaring  she  would  push  the  mon- 
ster from  the  seat  he  had  kept  longer  than  was  right. 
Her  gay,  fairy-like  figure  pressed  against  the  rude,  grey 
mass  with  such  mimic  might,  reminded  me  of  a  task 
assigned,  in  some  elfin  tale,  to  a  rebellious  hand-maiden 
of  Queen  Mab. 

We  had  a  little  intellectual  amusement  in  decipher- 
ing the  names  of  innumerable  Julias  and  Carolines, 
Rosalinds,  Janes,  and  "  Roxany  Augustys,"  inscribed 
by  affectionate  jack-knives,  upon  the  bark  of  the  sur- 
rounding trees.  Some  classic  gentleman,  dolefully  des- 
titute of  a  doxy,  had  inscribed  among  them  the  words, 
"  Memnon,"  and  "  Peucixia."  I  have  since  heard  the 
story  of  the  merry  hour  when  "  Memnon "  was  in- 
scribed, by  a  hand  which  has  written  many  a  witty  and 
clever  volume.  Indeed,  indeed  there  must  have  been 
a  deal  of  witchery  in  the  cunning  priestess  who  made 
that  stern  old  rock  breathe  such  mysterious  and  en- 
chanting music.     I  wonder  if  ever  there  was  anything 


ROLLING    ROCK.  43 


in  that  broken  champagne  bottle  which  lay  at  the  foot 
of  the  rock. 

"When  we  had  clambered  with  a  world  of  pains  on 
to  the  top  of  the  rock,  we,  too,  had  music  —  merry  and 
sad  —  "music  at  the  twilight  hour."  Then,  as  the 
evening  shades  deepened  in  the  wood,  came  low  spoken 
words  of  memory  and  of  longing  for  those  far  away. 
Alas  !  if  all  whom  we  invoked  had  come,  the  grave 
and  the  sea  must  have  given  up  its  dead. 

With  voices  softened  and  mellowed  by  deeper  feel- 
ing, my  companions  sang  an  "  Ave  Maria,"  and  we 
bid  farewell,  not  gaily,  to  a  scene  mysteriously  conse- 
crated by  memories  not  its  own.  So,  often,  in  scenes 
and  hours  when  we  invoke  the  ministers  of  joy,  other 
spirits  arise  in  their  places,  and  we  do  not  bid  them 
down. 

Note.  In  the  town  of  New  Marlboro',  about  twenty  miles  south 
of  Pittsfield,  is  one  of  those  curious  freaks  of  nature,  a  true  rock- 
ing stone  —  which  the  "  rolling  rock"  is  not.  It  is  a  stone  weigh- 
ing several  tons,  so  balanced  upon  another  that  while  the  slightest 
touch  causes  it  to  oscillate,  the  greatest  force  which  can  be  ap- 
plied, short  of  lifting  its  entire  weight,  will  not  remove  it  from  its 
pivot.  Similar  stones  found  in  the  Scottish  highlands,  have  pro- 
voked much  fierce  discussion  among  the  Savans.  The  naturalists 
claiming  them  for  their  kingdom,  as  a  work  of  Nature,  and  the 
antiquarians  as  stoutly  maintaining  that  they  were  remains  of 
ancient  druidical  art.  I  believe  the  contest  is  still  feebly  main- 
tained, although  the  discovery  of  similar  rocks  in  Siberia  and 
America  might  be  supposed  to  put  it  at  rest.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  Druids  used  them  like  other  marvels  of  nature,  to 
work  upon  the  superstition  of  their  dupes,  and  it  is  not  unlikely 
the  same  may  be  true  of  the  Indian  conjurers. 

In  this  same  town  of  New  Marlboro'  is  a  lakelet  called  the 
Hermit's  Pond,  from  a  certain  recluse  who  took  up  his  residence 


44  TAGnCONIC. 


by  its  side,  some  six  years  before  tbe  breaking  out  of  the  war  of 
the  Revolution,  and  there  lived  until  the  year  1813,  when  worn  out 
with  infirmity  and  old  age  —  alone  and  unattended — he  died  as  he 
had  lived  ;  for  he  forbade  any  to  remain  with  him  even  for  a 
single  night.  The  village  gossips  thought  they  found  a  solution 
of  the  mystery  of  his  life,  in  his  inveterate  hatred  of  women,  and 
his  continually  repeated  remark  of  them,  "  They  say  they  will 
and  they  wont." 

The  good  clergyman,  who  tells  this  anecdote,  adds  :  "  Let  none 
smile  at  the  story  of  Timothy  Leonard  ; "  but  for  the  life  of  me 
I  can't  help  it,  even  though  he  be  "  not  the  only  one  who  has 
suffered  disappointed  hope  and  mortified  pride  to  blot  out  the 
social  affections  and  produce  wretchedness,  misery  and  ruin." 
There  is  something  particularly  funny  in  the  idea  of  a  man  so 
thoroughly  unsophisticated  as  to  think  it  strange  that  women 
should  "  say  they  will  when  they  wont."  Why,  therein  lies  the 
very  essence  of  female  liberty. 


CHAPTER    V. 

LEBANON    SPRINGS. A    DASH    AT    LIFE    THERE. 

Down  in  the  hilly  valley  beyond  the  mountains  is 
Lebanon  —  New  Lebanon  —  the  capital  of  the  Shakers; 
the  seat  of  the  Mineral  Springs ;  the  most  delightful 
of  watering  places;  and  our  Gretna  Green.  All  the 
world  knows  Lebanon,  but  how  much  of  it,  about  as 
accurately  as  the  gentleman  who,  upon  the  morning 
after  his  arrival  desired  to  be  shown  "  the  cedars,  for 
which  he  had  been  told  the  place  was  famous ! " 

This  watering  place  is  a  very  Mecca  for  Summer 
pilgrims,  who,  soon  as  Greylock  takes  off  his  Winter 
cap,  flock  to  it  in  crowds,  —  some  with  the  quiet  matter- 
of-course  air  of  annual  visitors ;  others,  catching  a  fe- 
verish impulse  from  the  city  miasma,  and  rushing  away 
like  mad,  to  flirt  with  Nature  and  Hygeia,  at  the 
Springs. 

It  were  a  curious  study  to  enquire  what  brings  each 
individual  here ;  but,  unfortunately  for  psychological 
science,  the  sojourners  at  fashionable  hotels  are  neither 
so  communicative  nor  so  docile  as  the  amiable  occu- 
pants of  our  public  prisons,  who  never  refuse  to  answer 
the  questions  of  statistical  temperance  agents,  and  nine 
times  out  of  ten  give  the  very  reply  which  is  expected 
of  them.  But,  lamentable  as  is  this  habit  of  secretive- 
ness,  which  our  fashionables  absurdly  cherish,  we  have 
4 


46  TAGIICONIC. 


a  ready  resource  in  that  supreme  faculty  for  guessing, 
which  makes  us  Yankees,  from  Emerson  to  Andrew 
Jackson  Davis,  the  incomparable  philosophers  of  the 
Universe. 

It  is  a  pleasant  and  profitable  recreation  to  exercise 
this  precious  faculty  of  a  lazy  Summer  afternoon  on 
the  long  verandahs  of  Columbia  Hall.  Laziness  is  the 
mother  of  Philosophy.  There  are  some  hundreds  of 
human  beings  scattered  about  the  huge  hotel ;  most  of 
whom  may  be  supposed  to  have  had  some  motive  in 
coming  here,  and  to  have  some  notion,  more  or  less 
definite,  of  the  nature  of  the  place  and  the  part  they 
are  to  play  in  it.  Perhaps,  however,  we  may  get  as 
near  to  what  that  notion  really  is,  by  a  tolerably  shrewd 
guess,  as  by  personal  encpiiry,  —  which  latter  mode  of 
proceeding  might  also  be  deemed  impertinent ;  secre- 
tiveness  being  the  soul  of  civilized  life.  Let  us  guess, 
then. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  understand  that  the  student-look- 
ing young  man,  with  an  orange  colored  face  and  sea 
green  spectacles,  thinks  he  has  got  into  an  enormous 
hospital,  or  perhaps  only  a  mammoth  apothecary's 
shop.  He  deems  those  gorgeous,  flaunting  dames,  of 
whose  bright  presence  he  is  rather  vaguely  conscious, 
of  no  more  real  value  —  since  they  will  not  nurse  his 
invalidship  —  than  the  colored  waters  in  the  apothe- 
cary's window  opposite. 

Those  gay  ladies  themselves,  of  course,  view  the 
matter  in  a  very  reverse  light.  Take  one  of  them,  for 
example  —  that  flirting,  chatting,  jewelled  thing,  Mad- 
ame, the  wife  of  the  "Wall  Street  millionaire.  With 
both  those  clear  orbed  eyes  wide  open,  she  can  see 


THE    VISITORS.  47 


little  in  this  magnificent  panorama  of  hill  and  valley, 
and  in  this  its  life-throbbing  heart,  more  than  a  splendid 
ball-room,  or  gorgeous  saloon,  —  as  indeed,  for  that 
matter,  she  would  like  the  wide,  wide  world  to  be, — 
and  is  vastly  annoyed  that  misery,  with  her  discordant 
shrieks  and  disgusting  deformities,  should  pi'esume  to 
spoil  the  music  and  mar  the  decorations. 

Look  again.  You  would  call  yonder  a  frank,  free 
hearted,  undesigning  girl.  Hear  with  what  joyous, 
summerly  forgetfulness  she  throws  off  those  snatches 
of  unstudied  song ;  and  see  how  ingenuously  the  blush 
rises  in  her  cheek,  now  she  remembers  that  she  is  not 
alone.  You  would  not  dream  now  —  would  you  ?  —  that 
she  looks  upon  this  fair  spot  only  as  a  mart  in  which  she 
is  to  dispose  of  that  dear  little  commodity  —  herself —  to 
the  best  possible  advantage  ?  Yet  I  '11  wager  you  a 
small  farm  I  have  in  the  clouds,  that  every  note  of 
that  outgushing  melody  was  aimed,  point  blank,  at  the 
handsome  gentleman  who  has  been  conversing,  this  two 
hours  past,  with  the  pale  girl  in  black.  I  only  hope 
the  minstrel  will  not  be  malicious  enough  to  say,  the 
pale  girl  is  "  setting  her  cap  "  for  the  handsome  gen- 
tleman. 

AVhy  do  n't  she  turn  her  thought  to  drive  away 
the  cloud  which  has  settled  in  the  eye  of  the  gloomy- 
browed  man  who  is  pacing  the  verandah  so  heavily  ? 
Bless  us !  the  Summer  sunshine  glances  off  from 
him,  and  leaves  not  a  trace  of  light ;  he  has  never 
sold  his  shadow  to  Satan.  Yet  I  misdoubt ;  and  so  we 
go  on,  doubting  and  misdoubting,  guessing  and  misguess- 
ing,  sure  enough  —  if  we  would  consider  it  —  of  two 
things ;  that  we   shall   always  hit  wide   enough  of  the 


48  TAOHCONIO. 


mark,  and  never  too  near  the  charitable  side  of  it. 
'•  Wise  judges  are  we,  of  each  other's  action-  !  " 

This  Lebanon  is  not  without  its  vein  of  romance. 
How  could  it  be,  when  youth  and  age,  folly  and  wis- 
dom, joy  and  sorrow,  love  and  hatred,  life  and  death, 
make  it  their  yearly  rendezvous?  How  strange  a  ren- 
dezvous, oft-times!  Of  those  who  seek  here  new 
thought,  new  hope,  new  feelings,  how  many  find  only 
what  they  hring  —  a  jaded  mind  and  a  palsied  heart? 
Mind  cramped  to  the  puny  pursuit  of  puny  things  will 
not  always,  upon  the  mountains,  expand  and  glow  with 
the  widening  horizon  and  the  purer  sunlight.  Passion, 
horn  luxuriously  in  the  crowded  city,  grows  and 
strengthens,  and  will  not  die  in  the  bracing  upland  air. 
Yet  is  there  forgetfulness  of  lighter  woes  and  less  cor- 
roding cares,  in  the  gay  saloons  and  woodland  drives, 
as  well  as  marvellous  virtue  for  the  diseased  body  in 
the  bubbling  waters  and  fresh  breezes  ?  Care-worn 
men  and  women  worn  with  ennui,  do  get  new  elasticity 
of  thought  and  frame ;  but  in  what  do  they  seek  a  balm 
for  the  wounded  sj»irit,  who  bring  hither  the  broken 
hearted  also,  —  like  thee,  fair  and  gentle  L.,  —  or  was 
it  that  thy  pure  spirit  might  wing  its  way  to  Heaven 
through  purer  skies  than  overhang  thy  native  city? 

I  said  Lebanon  had  its  vein  of  romance.  A  bach- 
elor friend  of  mine,  who  has  been  a  lounger  at  Colum- 
bia Hall  every  Summer  these  ten  years  past,  has  a  rich 
fund  of  stories  —  humorous,  melo-dramatic,  and  tragi- 
cal—  about  those  who  have  fluttered,  flattered,  flirted, 
and  flitted  here  in  that  time.  With  him,  half  the 
Demoiselles  who  have  "  made  their  market  "  under  his 
eye,   are  heroines  of  a   quality   which  would  surprise 


our  friend's  story.  49 

themselves  not  a  little  to  know,  and  their  husbands  a 
good  deal  more.  It  is  often  a  matter  of  discussion  with 
us,  whether,  among  other  connubial  revelations,  the  arts 
and  devices  whereby  he  was  entrapped  are  usually  dis- 
closed to  the  husband.  In  the  absence  of  data  from 
which  to  conclude,  we  always  end  in  the  same  mists  in 
which  we  set  out.  One  of  my  bachelor  friend's  stories 
I  will  venture  to  repeat,  although  I  perceive  it  loses 
half  its  flavor,  for  lack  of  the  gusto  with  which  he 
would  dwell  upon  it. 

She  toonlb  be  a  ©eutlematVs  iXIife. 

"  More  beauty  than  ever  at  L.  this  year,"  I  remarked 
to  my  friend,  as  we  sat  together  one  evening,  about  a 
year  since ;  it  was  a  common  observation,  and  I  thought 
myself  particularly  safe  in  repeating  it. 

"  Hey !  what 's  that  you  say  ?  "  he  ejaculated,  after 
a  pause,  in  which  it  seemed  my  words  had  been  follow- 
ing him  far  down  into  the  depths  of  reverie.  "  More 
beauty  than  ever  at  L. !  Let  me  tell  you,  my  dear 
fellow,  that  you  know  nothing  at  all  of  the  matter. 
It 's  one  of  the  stupid  common-places  of  stupid  common 
people."  I  bowed  to  the  compliment,  and  the  bachelor 
went  on  with  a  half  sigh,  "  All !  you  should  have 
known  us  in  the  reign  of  the  bitter  and  beautiful  Lizzie 
B.,  or  in  that  of  the  wonder-working  Mrs.  M." 

Here  the  bachelor  again  relapsed  into  reverie,  and  I 
had  time  to  remark  to  myself  that  this  hankering  after 
faded  flowers,  when  the  world  was  full  of  fresh,  was  an 
ugly  symptom  that  my  friend's  own  hey-day  of  beaudom 
must  be  on  the  wane.  "When  people  begin  to  complain 
4* 


50  TACIIICONIC. 


that  they  can  find  no  beauty,  now-a-days,  like  that 
which  they  used  to  meet,  look  if  they  don't  wear  wigs, 
and  other  falsities  of  decoration. 

"But  the  most  charming  season,"  resumed  the  bach- 
elor, emerging  again  into  the  present,  "  was  that  of 
184-,  when  Kate  L.  was  in  the  ascendant.  She  was 
far  enough  from  beautiful,  was  Mrs.  L.,  but  such  a 
winsome  way  she  had  with  her  that  we  all,  to  a  man, 
acknowledged  her  sceptre,  —  and  the  most  dazzling 
belle  in  her  realm  was  ready  to  die  with  envy;  envy, 
by  the  bye,  was  a  vice  Mrs.  L.  was  especially  free 
from.  Never  was  woman  more  ready  to  recognise  and 
exhibit  the  charms  of  her  rivals.  She  surrounded  her 
throne  with  a  constellation  of  lovely  women  from  far 
and  near,  and  would  let  none  be  eclipsed.  A  kind- 
hearted  creature  was  she,  and  a  sensible  to  boot ;  a 
tithe  part  the  jealousy  we  endured  from  the  splendid 
Lizzie  B.  would  have  made  Kate  look  as  ugly  as  a 
Bornese  ape. 

"  But  it  was  of  her  throne  maidens  that  I  was  going 
to  boast.  I  wish  you  could  have  looked  in  upon  one 
of  our  gala  nights ;  we  have  none  such  now  —  (that, 
entre  nous,  was  a  fib  of  the  bachelor's).  There  was  a 
floral  ball  we  had  one  night  in  July,  —  I  have  some 
reason  to  remember  it,  but  no  matter,  —  Mrs.  L.  had 
made  more  than  usual  exertions  in  getting  up  this  festi- 
val, which  was  the  opening  one  of  the  season.  The 
arrangements  were  perfect ;  —  the  floral  decorations 
unique  and  profuse ;  the  music  superb ;  and  the  supper 
just  what  it  should  be.  But  our  Lady  Patroness  was 
too  true  a  genius  to  give  to  these  concomitants  the  mo- 
nopoly of  her   attention.     With   a   magic   little  crow 


COUSIN   NELL.  51 


quill  by  way  of  wand,  she  summoned  from  all  manner 
of  retreats  the  most  brilliant  assemblage  of  fair  women 
and  distinguished  men  that  I  have  ever  beheld ;  and 
when  Mrs.  L.  summoned  youth  and  beauty,  you  might 
be  sure  there  was  something  to  be  done.  1  am  going 
to  leave  them  to  do  it,  while  I  tell  you  of  my  cousin 
Ellen,  the  fairest  of  them  all. 

"  You  remember  Nell  —  my  uncle  Fred's  Nell  — 
the  merriest  girl  that  ever  hid  deep  design  under  care- 
less laugh.  Uncle  Fred.,  you  must  know,  left  her  an 
orphan,  at  twenty,  —  with  exquisite  accomplishments, 
unrivalled  tact,  and  four  thousand  dollars,  with  which 
to  make  her  way  in  the  world,  as  she  best  might.  Her 
guardian  —  a  staid,  business-like  old  gentleman,  guard- 
ian to  half  the  heiresses  in  the  county,  as  well  —  when 
her  year  of  mourning  was  over,  advised  her  to  buy  a 
share  in  a  boarding-school,  and  earn  her  living  by 
teaching.  '  With  your  accomplishments  and  talents, 
my  dear,'  —  the  good,  fatherly  old  man  was  going  on, 
when  he  was  astonished  to  find  his  pretty  ward  cutting 
short  his  speech  with  — 

"  '  With  my  accomplishments  and  talents,  my  dear 
guardian,  I  do  n't  intend  to  squeeze  my  brain  like  a 
lemon,  to  give  flavor  to  some  insipid  school  girl,  while 
I  might  as  well  be  rivalling  her  mamma.  No!  I'll 
invest  in  —  a  husband ! ' —  and  here  her  little  foot  came 
down  with  a  will. 

"  The  gua:-dian  stared ;  but  he  was  too  sensible  a 
man  to  oppose  a  woman  whose  will  was  up ;  and  so, 
under  the  nominal  chaperonship  of  his  wife,  Ellen 
opened  her  first  campaign  at  Lebanon. 

"  That  night  of  the  Moral  fete,  she  stood  in  the  centre 


52  TAGHCONIC. 


of  an  admiring  group,  —  a  slight,  aerial  figure,  but  full 
of  elastic  life  and  vigor;  her  face  transparent  with 
changing  light,  and  her  eye  overflowing  with  a  flood  of 
love  and  laughter.  She  was  dressed  with  wonderful 
artistic  skill;  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  imagine 
how  she  contrived  to  arrange  her  mist-like  drapery  so 
that  she  seemed  always  on  the  point  of  rising  into  air. 
I  have  since  heard  that  it  is  no  mystery  among  mantua- 
makers.  Among  the  crowd  of  women,  laden  and  over- 
laden with  all  kinds  of  flowers,  native  and  exotic,  Nell 
had  only  twisted  in  her  hair  a  few  snowy,  star-shaped 
blossoms,  —  the  spoil  of  a  mountain  excursion.  Not  a 
fold  of  her  robes,  not  a  tress  on  her  head  but  seemed 
too  spiritual  for  mortal  touch.  I  have  since  learned 
that  the  artistes  call  this  style  of  dress,  a  la  Gabrielle. 
It  is  a  triumph  of  genius ;  but  I  would  not  advise  any 
lady  weighing  over  two  hundred  to  try  it. 

"  Frank  Leigh  was  conversing  with  my  etherial 
cousin  in  a  composed  tone,  and  with  a  gaze  of  mere 
earthly  admiration  which  I  could  not  then  have  assumed 
for  the  world,  although  Nell  and  I  had  been  playmates 
from  infancy.  I  almost  shuddered  —  so  strangely  had 
the  fancy  possessed  me  —  when  Frank  took  her  hand, 
to  lead  her  to  the  piano,  lest  she  should  indeed  prove  a 
spirit,  and  dissolve  into  thin  air. 

"  'Ellen  should  be  a  gentleman's  wife,'  said  a  pretty 
and  brilliant  widow,  by  my  side. 

"Wife!  so  she  was  human.  'A  gentleman's  Avife,' 
I  repeated  aloud,  '  and  pray  what  is  a  gentleman  ?  — 
and  why  should  Ellen,  more  than  another,  be  a  gentle- 
man's wife  ? ' 

"  '  Why,'  replied  the  widow,  laughing,  '  a  gentleman, 


FRANK    LEIGH.  53 


in  Ellen's  vocabulary,  is  a  man  of  elegant  manners, 
with  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  a  depo- 
sition to  spend  his  income  in  graceful  and  fashionable 
follies.  Ellen's  expensive  tastes  demand  such  a  hus- 
band—  and  I  hope  she  may  get  him.' 

"'  Oh,  now  I  am  enlightened,'  I  said. 

"  'I  am  glad  to  hear  it,'  rejoined  the  widow,  merrily. 
But,  come  with  me  out  into  the  balcony,  and  I  '11  let 
you  into  a  secret  or  two.' 

"  Of  course,  such  an  offer  was  not  to  be  resisted  ; 
and  before  we  returned,  I  was  put  in  possession  of 
much  recherche  gossip,  known  only  to  the  initiated. 

"  There  had  come  that  year  to  the  Springs,  a  fine 
looking  young  man,  —  generous,  spirited,  of  captivating 
address,  and  great  reputed  wealth  —  Frank  Leigh  by 
name  ;  the  same  who  was  in  attendance  upon  my  cousin 
Ellen  at  the  floral  fete.  Of  course  such  a  God-send 
was  not  to  be  neglected  by  anxious  mothers,  and  daugh- 
ters no  less  anxious.  Mrs.  L.,  finding  him  clever,  fond 
of  sport,  and  prompt  to  forward  all  her  gay  schemes, 
had  taken  him  up  at  once,  and  installed  him  her  prime 
minister.  Ellen,  I  need  not  say,  was  quite  as  ready  to 
acknowledge  his  merits. 

"Frank  was  universally  declared  to  be  a  'sweet 
man,'  in  the  ball-room  and  drawing-room ;  but  he  was 
not  a  bit  of  a  dandy;  there  was  nothing  of  the  exclu- 
sively ladies'  man  about  him,  nothing  effeminate  in  his 
habits.  On  the  contrary,  his  tastes  were  eminently 
manly,  lie  had  yachted  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  hunted 
moose  in  a  Maine  Winter,  and  even  taken  a  run  after 
buffaloes  into  the  Sioux  country.  Here,  among  the 
quiet  hills,  his  exuberant  spirits  found  vent  in  a  passion 


54  TAGHCONIC. 


for  wild  horsemanship.  Jehu  was  a  child  to  him,  with 
the  whip ;  he  was  sure  always  to  choose  some  unman- 
ageable foal  of  gunpowder,  that  nobody  else  would 
come  within  a  rod  of;  men,  even  of  strong  nerves, 
were  of  opinion  thai  safer  pleasures  existed  than  a  seat 
beside  Frank  Leigh,  on  one  of  his  break-neck  drives  ; 
and  as  for  the  women,  not  a  soul  of  the  dear  creatures, 
who  would  have  given  their  eyes  to  secure  him  for  a 
partner  at  the  last  night's  ball,  could  be  persuaded  to 
trust  their  ivory  necks  with  him  and  his  '  Lightning ' 
next  morning. 

"  To  all  this  was  one  most  remarkable  exception  — 
my  brave  cousin  Nell,  who  had  come  out  all  at  once  a 
perfect  Di.  Vernon.  Ah !  but  it  was  an  inspiriting 
sight,  to  see  her  mounted  on  her  brown  steed,  leading 
her  panting  admirers  an  aimless  race  over  fields,  brakes, 
briers,  and  fences,  till  half  the  chase  forswore  all  pur- 
suit of  her,  thereafter. 

"  But  Nelly's  favorite  seat  was  in  Frank's  light 
buggy,  of  which  she  enjoyed  undisputed  possession  — 
her  rivals  thinking  it  a  particularly  'bad  eminence.' 
Of  course  she  was  the  constant  companion  of  our  Jehu, 
and  a  fit  one,  as  it  looked.  Travellers  marvelled  en- 
viously, as  Frank's  chariot  dashed  by  them,  to  hear 
Nelly's  clear,  ringing  laugh,  or  rattling  song ;  or  even 
at  times  to  see  her  slight  figure  braced  back,  her  loose 
curls  flying,  and  her  little  hands  holding  fast  the 
'  lines,'  while  she  urged  the  foaming  horses  to  yet  more 
impossible  speed ;  — 

1  Like  a  dream  doth  it  seem, 
When  I  think  of  the  past ; 
TJp  the  road  gallantly  dashing  along, 
Driving  two  noble  steeds,  square  built  and  strong ; 


COUSIN   NELL.  55 


Firmly  her  little  hands  grasping  the  reins, 
Held  them  as  firmly  as  lovers  in  chains.' 

"  I  think  the  echoes  of  her  merry  voice  must  linger 
yet  among  the  old  woods  which  skirt  the  Hancock  road. 
Sure  I  am  that  the  dwellers  in  the  road-side  farm 
houses  yet  remember  Frank  Leigh's  dashing  equipage, 
and  the  gay  couple  with  whom  it  used  to  fly  by  their 
doors,  at  such  flashing  speed. 

"  Beside  his  equestrian  fancies  Frank  was  exceed- 
ingly prone  to  romantic  excursions,  and  by  the  aid  of 
the  good  natured  Mrs.  L.,  who  was  nothing  loath,  led  us 
upon  a  hundred  wild  adventures  among  the  hills,  to  the 
great  detriment  of  patent  leather  and  superfine  broad- 
cloth. Here,  too,  Nell  was  the  co-leader  with  the 
rattle-brain  heir  ;  never  a  ramble  ended  until  she  had 
joined  him  in  some  mad-cap  feat  or  another. 

"All  this  you  may  be  sure  gave  ample  room  and 
verge  enough  for  bitter  tongues ;  but  the  sage  conclu- 
sion of  one  shrewd  lady,  that,  '  some  folks  could  do 
what  other  folks  could  n't,'  soon  came  to  be  in  substance 
the  universal  sentiment.  Indeed,  with  all  Nelly's 
faults  and  follies,  it  was  impossible,  when  you  knew 
her,  to  think  her  capable  of  anything  very  wrong. 

"  One  opinion,  at  least,  every  body  held,  and  that 
was,  that  she  was  just  the  girl  to  charm  Frank  Leigh  — 
and  that  she  had  charmed  him  to  some  purpose.  Every 
body  but  my  friend  the  widow,  who,  while  she  admitted 
the  boldness  and  vigor  of  Ellen's  attack,  had  a  doubt  or 
two  as  to  its  success.  '  Ellen,'  said  the  widow,  '  has  a 
splendid  genius  for  business,  but  very  little  experience. 
Do  you  not  notice  that  Frank  of  late,  has  another  com- 
panion sometimes  on  his  rides  ?  ' 


56  TACIICOMC. 


"'What!  the  timid  and  femininly  delicate  Miss  P.?' 

"'The  same;  —  and  with  what  tender  care  he  curbs 
his  speed  when  she  is  his  companion?' 

"'It  is  very  kind  and  considerate  of  him ;  the  jolts 
and  racing  in  which  Ellen  delights,  would  be  the  death 
of  Miss  P.     I  am  sure  it  is  good  in  him.' 

"  '  Oh,  very !  And  yet  is  it  not  possible  that  she  wdio 
tames  the  steed  may  tame  the  master  ? ' 

"  I  admitted  the  noteworthiness  of  the  fact,  but 
trusted  to  the  genius  and  address  of  my  fair  kinswo- 
man for  a  successful  issue  of  her  Summer  campaign. 
Indeed,  as  the  season  waned,  her  star  seemed  to  rise 
yet  higher  into  the  ascendant,  while  she  relaxed  no 
whit  of  her  zeal,  but  cut  madder  freaks,  rode  more 
daringly,  was  more  than  ever  the  constant  companion 
of  Frank,  who,  although  he  daily  took  a  quiet  drive 
with  Miss  P.,  seemed  more  than  ever  devoted  to  her 
dashing  rival.  Everybody  said  Frank  had  proposed, 
was  about  to  propose,  or  at  least  was  in  honor  bound  to 
propose  to  my  cousin.  He  was  set  down  as  certain  of 
the  fair  hands  which  so  gracefully  reined  in  his  fiery 
coursers.  Only  the  widow  shook  her  curls  and  Miss  P. 
said  nothing. 

"  One  bright  morning  in  September,  just  before  the 
close  of  the  season,  Ellen  was  sitting  in  the  drawing 
room,  surrounded  as  usual  by  a  group  of  loungers,  — 
among  whom  were  Mr.  Vinton,  a  gentleman  of  singu- 
larly reserved  and  quiet  manners,  and  said  to  be  very 
timid,  —  and  a  Miss  Phoebe  N.,  a  young  lady  who,  in 
spite  of  nose  and  eyes  equally  awry  with  her  temper, 
was  supposed  to  be  about  to  seize  the  quiet  gentleman, 
vi  et  arm  is. 


COUSIN   NELL.  57 


"  '  So  Frank  Leigh  lias  taken  us  all  by  surprise,  and 
married,'  said  some  one,  joining  the  group. 

"  '  Married  ! '  '  No  ? '  '  You  do  n't  mean  it.'  '  How ! ' 
1  When  ? '  'To  whom ? '  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices  at 
once,  —  the  speakers,  of  course,  fixing  their  eyes  con- 
siderately upon  Nell,  except  Miss  N.,  who  was  enabled 
to  turn  only  one  of  hers  that  way,  but  answered : 

"'Oh,  to  that  stupid  Miss  P.  I  saw  them  depart 
this  morning.' 

"  '  I  am  sure  you  would  not  so  speak,  if  you  knew 
her,'  said  Ellen,  indignantly.  '  On  the  contrary,  she  is 
a  sweet,  sensible,  and  witty  girl.' 

" '  Rather  too  quiet  for  me,'  mildly  remarked  the 
very  quiet  Mr.  Vinton. 

" '  I  do  n't  see  why  you  should  defend  her,'  snarled 
the  amiable  Phoebe  to  Ellen.  '  She  has  carried  off  the 
prize  we  all  assigned  to  you.' 

"  '  To  me  ! '  exclaimed  Ellen  with  real  laughter  and 
well  affected  surprise ;  '  I  am  sure  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you  all.  Frank  is  a  noble  fellow ;  but  do  you  know 
I  should  have  an  unconquerable  aversion  to  being 
rivalled  by  dogs  and  horses  ?  —  and  of  course  '  Light- 
ning' and  'Ney'  will  hold  equal  sway  in  Frank's 
heart  with  his  wife.' 

"  '  But  we,'  began  Miss  N.,  with  a  malicious  look  — 

"  '  But  me  no  buts ! '  exclaimed  Ellen,  interrupting 
her ;  '  I  would  sooner  marry  a  cobbler  than  a  horse- 
jockey,  be  he  never  so  rich  !' 

"  Mr.  Vinton  looked  radiantly  happy ;  Miss  Phcebe 

darkeningly  the  reverse,  for  it  was  her  '  one  woe  of 

life '  that  her  father  had  began  his  ascent  to  wealth  in 

the  respectable  calling  of  a  cobbler.     Ellen  saw  where 

5 


58  TAGIICONIC. 


her  shot  hit,  and  then  east  a  penetrating  glance  at  Vin- 
ton, in  whose  face  she  read  more  than  she  had  sus- 
pected." 

Here  the  bachelor  paused  for  breath.  "And  so," 
said  I,  "Miss  Ellen  lost  her  Summer's  work." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  replied  resuming ;  "  you  shall  hear. 
Frank  Leigh  did  not  choose  to  fall  in  love  with  a 
woman  who  rivalled  him  in  the  accomplishments  of 
which  he  was  most  proud.  Even  so  sensible  a  fellow 
as  he  had  a  spice  of  human  vanity, —  quite  enough  to 
cause  him  to  prefer  Miss  P.,  who  admired  his  daring 
feats,  to  Nelly,  who  demanded  that  he  should  admire 
hers,  and  showed,  moreover,  to  all  the  world  that  they 
were  not  beyond  the  attainment  of  a  very  slight-framed 
woman.  Besides,  he  could  too  readily  understand  all 
that  Nell  felt,  said,  and  did ;  it  is  not  the  near  view 
which  charms. 

"  Poor  Vinton,  however,  looking  on  from  a  distance, 
became  every  day  more  enamoured ;  —  the  qualities 
which  Ellen  displayed  proved  so  much  the  more  fascin- 
ating from  their  very  strangeness  to  his  own  nature. 
But  it  is  in  vain  to  philosophize  about  these  matters ; 
Vinton,  like  many  a  sensible  fellow  before  and  since, 
contrived  to  get  hopelessly  into  the  meshes  before  he 
thought  of  asking  how  ;  and  the  moment  he  saw  the 
field  clear,  he  resolved  to  occupy  the  vacant  lovership. 

"  Our  light-hearted  Ariadne  I  suspect  was  secretly 
piqued  at  her  desertion ;  at  all  events,  she  gave  the 
new  lover  a  world  of  encouragement.  Indeed,  so  rap- 
idly did  affairs  advance,  that  the  same  afternoon  Mr. 
Vinton,  in  a  tremor  of  fear,  made  a  formal  proposal,  — 
and  was  at  once  accepted.     Still  more  to  his  joy,  Ellen 


THE    CONCLUSION.  59 


consented — if  Miss  Phoebe  is  to  be  believed,  proposed — 
that  the  union  should  take  place  that  same  evening;  that 
soon  after  the  demolition  of  her  hopes,  Ellen  reached 
their  consummation,  and  was  a  'gentleman's  wife.'" 

"  A  queer  wooing,"  I  said,  when  the  bachelor  had 
concluded.     "  Was  the  result  happy  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  chances  were  rather  against  it,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  but  fate  often  treats  us  better  than  we  would 
ourselves.     The  result,  I  believe,  was  happy  for  both." 

"And  how  about  the  widow  and  yourself?" 

"Is  not  that  the  moon  rising  yonder?"  said  the 
bachelor. 


CHAPTER    VI.* 


BEKKT   POND. 


L ,  March  22,  1852. 

My  Dear  S. :  — 

It  is  now  many  months  since  I  promised  you 
an  account  of  a  ramble  over  one  of  your  glorious  moun- 
tains ;  and  through  all  these  changing  moons  my  prom- 
ise is  unredeemed. 

You  may  have  forgotten  it,  —  have  at  any  rate  des- 
paired of  its  fulfilment.  And  perhaps,  if  I  had  re- 
mained in  P.,  where  the  heaven-clad  hills  stand  round 
about,  "  as  the  mountains  are  round  about  Jerusalem," 
in  the  very  presence  of  their  ennobling  majesty,  I  had 
been  too  much  awed  for  familiar  description,  too  much 
delighted  for  voluble  utterance. 

But  here,  with  nothing  in  all  the  tame  horizon  but 
dead  sand  plains,  or  faintly  swelling  hills,  still  more 
lifeless  in  their  weak  aspiring ;  here,  where  nothing, 
not  even  the  church  spires,  are  so  near  heaven  as  the 
manufactory  chimnies,  —  the  awe-inspiring  spell  of  the 
mountains  is  broken,  while  their  blue  and  cloud-like 
summits,  looming  over  the  length  of  a  state  in  the  soft 
mirage  of  memory,  look  lovelier,  holier  than  ever. 

'I  am  Indebted  for  this  Chapter  to  the  kindness  of  a  much  esteemed  and 
very  clever  friend. 


BERRY    POND.  61 


As  a  votary,  admitted  to  a  costly  shrine,  stands 
abashed,  and  fears  to  wake  the  sacred  echoes  with  his 
unhallowed  voice,  yet  finds  in  its  splendor  and  its 
solemn  images  unfailing  themes  of  story  to  eager  lis- 
teners around  his  humble  fire-side,  —  so  I,  an  exile 
from  the  hills  I  love  so  well,  may  exchange  my  awe 
struck  silence  for  rapturous  speech,  and  grow  garrulous 
over  scenes  that  once  filled  me  with  unutterable  pleasure. 

It  was  on  a  bright,  still  morning  in  the  painted  Au- 
tumn, that  I  started  with  a  friend  for  Berry  Pond. 
Aye,  that 's  the  name.  "  I  seek  no  purfled  prettiness 
of  phrase,"  I  accept  no  sickly  appellation,  borrowed 
from  other  scenes,  which  is  thought  to  sound  romantic 
because  unfamiliar,  and  which  was  originally  noble 
only  because  simple  and  unaffected. 

Berry  Pond !  The  name  falls  sweetly  on  the  ear, 
and  fills  the  mind  with  images  of  cool  and  crystal 
waters,  and  green  and  sloping  shores.  It  is  ringing 
with  the  silver  ripple  of  the  mountain  tarn ;  it  is  redo- 
lent of  wild  flowers,  and  sweet  with  pulpy  fruits. 

Berry  Pond,  however,  does  not  derive  its  name  from 
the  strawberries,  the  raspberries,  the  blackberries,  and 
the  wintergreen  berries,  which,  by  their  abundance  in 
its  vicinity  would  justify  the  appellation ;  but  from  an 
obscure,  stout-hearted  man,  who  once  dwelt  upon  its 
border,  and  wrung  subsistence  for  a  large  family  of 
girls  out  of  the  margin  of  its  rocky  chalice.  Honor  to 
him  !  and  let  this  silver  tablet,  inscribed  with  his  name, 
perpetuate  his  memory  as  long  as  English  is  spoken  on 
the  soil  he  trod  ! 

"We  pursued  our  way,  in  the  chill  but  serene  Novem- 
ber morning,  towards  the  base  of  Hancock  Mountain, 
5* 


62  TAGHCONIC. 


near  whose  summit  lay  the  object  of  our  journey.  Our 
path  was  through  obscure  bye-roads,  lined  with  the 
dwellings  of  an  industrious  and  frugal  people,  standing 
amid  clustering  orchards,  as  if  the  venerable  trees  took 
solemn  interest  in  the  drama  going  on  within,  and  were 
gathered  there  to  witness  it. 

My  companion  was  born  in  one  of  these  abodes,  and 
had  passed  his  life  to  its  high  meridian  among  them ; 
and  his  memory  overflowed  with  story  and  incident  of 
merry,  or  serious,  or  sad  adventure,  which  these  quiet 
looking  homes  had  seen. 

A  right  pleasant  companion,  this  friend  of  mine,  with 
his  moving  memories.  An  unaffected  love  of  nature, 
and  a  quick  perception  of  her  beauty  and  her  grandeur, 
joined  to  a  warm  heart  and  a  lively  sympathy  with  all 
that  told  of  human  joy  or  sorrow,  shone  unconsciously 
in  his  simple  language  and  expressive  face.  It  was 
almost  as  well  to  be  with  him  as  to  be  alone  with  one's 
imagination  and  the  spirits  of  earth  and  sky ;  and  more 
cannot  be  said  of  mortal  friend. 

Diverging  at  last  from  the  highway,  we  entered 
through  rustic  bars  upon  the  private  road  that  winds  up 
the  mountain.  For  a  short  distance  we  drove  over  a 
level  interval,  at  the  mouth  of  the  gorge  through  which 
we  were  to  pass ;  and  here  we  came  upon  the  site  of  a 
dwelling,  now  marked  only  by  the  grass-grown  cellar, 
and  the  mossy  and  unfruitful  trees  that  seemed  to  feel 
alike  the  loss  of  human  sympathy  and  human  care. 

These  melancholy  mourners  around  a  darkened 
hearth-stone,  creatures  of  civilization  as  they  were, 
appeared  incapable  of  receiving  the  quickening  influ- 
ence of  sun  and  dew  direct  from  the  hand  of  Gcd,  like 


BERRY    POND.  63 


the  savage  trees  that  waved  their  outspread  arms  above 
them,  and  waiting  in  vain  for  man's  accustomed  care, 
to  have  pined  away  in  moody  sorrow. 

Quickly  passing  this  mournful  spot,  we  entered  the 
ravine,  down  which  a  brooklet  brawled,  and  began  to 
ascend  the  mountain  by  a  narrow  but  excellent  road, 
cut  with  great  labor  in  the  steep  hill  side.  Built  to 
bring  down  the  timber  from  the  summit,  it  seemed  the 
approach  of  an  indomitable  enemy  to  assault  those 
forest  chieftains  in  their  mountain  fastness.  It  is  in- 
deed a  noble  work,  and  is  eloquent  of  the  determina- 
tion and  energy  of  its  builder. 

When  we  began  our  ascent,  the  burn  was  prattling 
away  in  familiar  accents  close  at  hand.  But  rising 
more  rapidly  than  the  bed  of  the  channel,  the  tops  of 
stately  trees  rooted  by  the  brook-side  were  soon  waving 
beneath  us ;  and  the  mingling  murmur  of  the  leaves 
and  stream  seemed  the  audible  prayer  of  Nature. 

Above  us  towered  the  solemn  mountain ;  and  the 
lonely  trees  which  the  ruthless  axe  had  spared,  subdued 
and  chastened  by  bereavement,  pointed  calmly  to  the 
sky,  and  with  grave  and  reverend  gesture  beckoned  us 
ever  upward ;  while  the  thoughtless  dryads  that  cov- 
ered the  shorn  mountain  with  a  luxurious  undergrowth, 
sported  jauntily  their  gay  cashmeres  of  the  latest  Au- 
tumn style ;  and  with  modest  shade,  and  glancing 
sheen,  and  merry,  tinkling  music,  invited  pause  and 
dalliance. 

J »nt  upward  we  ever  went,  along  the  steadfast  road, 
till  on  the  one  hand  the  rivulet  again  appeared  close  by 
our  side,  having  climbed  the  steepest  part  of  the  gorge 
to  overtake  us,  and  looking  faint  and  weary  with  the 


6i  TAGHCOXIC 


effort;  and  on  the  other  the  reposing  mountain  stretched 

away  with  gentle  and  inviting  .slope,  —  like  the  easy 
ascent  of  the  good  man's  path,  alter  the  steep  and  toil- 
some struggle  of  youth  is  over. 

Leaving  our  panting  horse  under  a  spreading  beech, 
we  turned  aside  from  the  road,  and  walked  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  to  the  pond.  The  undulating  ground  over 
which  we  went,  now  rugged  with  coarse  ferns  and  brist- 
ling  with  wild  and  worthless  shrubs,  was  once  a  smooth 
shorn  meadow ;  and  all  these  silent  fields,  untended 
and  unfenced,  once  owned  a  blest  allegiance  to  the  arm 
of  toil,  and  ministered  to  human  happiness.  Here 
rustic  maidens  spread  the  new  mown  grass,  and  hither 
rustic  wooers  came  to  spend  the  Summer  holiday.  Yon- 
der the  serried  rows  of  corn-hills,  plainly  hinted  through 
the  faded  grass,  tell  where  the  last  harvest  left  its  stub- 
ble, unmolested  by  the  plough.  There,  where  that 
little  mound  swells  gently  from  the  valley,  the  sorrowT- 
ing  apple  trees  point  out  the  spot  where  dwelt  a  de- 
parted household. 

Like  the  Assyrian  king  turned  into  the  desolate 
fields ;  bearded  with  hoary  moss,  and  shaggy  with  un- 
kemped  sprays,  and  gnarled  and  knotty  with  dead  and 
decaying  boughs,  they  utter  a  mournful  warning  against 
that  rooted  grief  that  seeks  refuge  in  seclusion  and 
"  lures  us  from  society  where  we  are  safe,  to  snare  us 
in  the  solitary  desert." 

Yet  there  is  something  touching  in  the  constancy  of 
these  old  trees,  so  unlike  the  fickle  attachments  of  men. 
Sorely]  the  apple  tree,  and  not  the  willow,  should  be 
the  emblem  of  enduring  sorrow. 

Musing    thus,    we    silently  moved   onwards,   till,  on 


BERRY    POND.  65 


reaching  the  summit  of  a  ridge,  the  lakelet  burst  upon 
our  vision,  almost  beneath  our  feet. 

To  me  —  a  little  in  advance  of  my  companion  —  it 
was  not  at  first  comprehended ;  but,  taking  the  color  of 
my  reverie,  it  seemed  another  Heaven  revealed  beneath 
the  sod,  as  when  I  looked  through  tears  into  an  open 
grave,  and  saw  my  Heaven  there. 

But  an  exclamation  of  delight  at  my  elbow,  brought 
out  the  object  of  my  vision,  from  the  profound  into 
which  I  had  been  gazing  to  the  glassy  surface,  and  the 
heaven  beyond  the  sphere  became  a  crystal  lake. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  beauty  of  this  pond.  Its 
shores,  for  a  narrow  interval,  slope  gently  towards  it, 
and  then  fall  steeply  away  like  the  sides  of  a  moulded 
urn.  Its  margin  is  sometimes  a  beach  of  silvery  sand 
strewn  with  blocks  of  snowy  quartz,  and  delicate, 
fibrous  looking  mica ;  again  grassy  and  green,  even 
now,  to  the  water's  edge ;  and  yet  again  fringed  with 
long  eyelashes  of  birch  and  hazle  trees,  that  dreamily 
gaze  at  their  reflection  in  the  mirror. 

Its  waters  are  clear  and  cool,  and  pleasant  to  the 
taste ;  and  with  the  breathing  sky,  robed  in  the  candid 
surplice  of  the  clouds,  bending  in  solemn  benediction 
over  it,  it  seemed  the  sacramental  chalice  of  nature, 
and  its  crystal  water,  infused  with  Heaven's  own  form 
and  hue,  seemed  changed  by  a  real  transubstantiation 
into  the  mystic  life-blood  of  the  Universe. 

We  had  no  need  of  language,  for  all  that  the  scene 
could  tell  was  whispered  to  the  heart  of  each ;  so  we 
strolled  apart,  and  worshipped  and  enjoyed  in   silence. 

Here  was  no  meddling  priest  to  thrust  his  specula- 
tive creed  between  me  and  my  love  to  Heaven,  and 


CG  TAGECONIC. 


reclining  in  oriental  mood  upon  a  mossy  bank,  which, 
thick-spread  with  fragrant  wintergrecn,  served  at  once 
as  couch  and  table,  and  incense  altar,  I  lifted  my  heart 
to  God  for  absolution  and  blessing,  and  communed  un- 
forbidden. 

Oh  !  not  altogether  unprofitable  these  secret  musings 
in  the  cloisters  of  the  great  cathedral.  By  them 
we  learn  to  feel  that  God  liveth  not  alone  in  history 
and  tradition,  but  in  Nature  also,  and  the  world ;  that 
He  speaketh  not  alone  in  the  Sinai-tones  of  his  inspira- 
tion, but  audibly,  too,  in  the  voices  of  his  winds  and 
woods  ;  that,  indeed,  "  He  is  not  the  God  of  the  dead, 
but  of  the  living." 

The  long,  chill  shadows  of  the  low  trees  creeping 
over  me,  admonished  me  to  rise,  and  walking  on  until  I 
had  made  the  circuit  of  the  pond,  I  joined  my  friend 
who  had  preceded  me,  and  after  pausing  awhile  to  look 
at  the  cloud-like  blue  of  the  distant  Kaatskills,  the  burly 
strength  of  the  nearer  Taghconic,  and  the  wide  pano- 
rama of  hill  and  vale  that  spread  between,  all  robed 
with  the  richest  colors  of  the  iris,  and  bathed  in  the 
rich,  palpable  light  of  the  Indian  Summer,  that  filled 
the  valleys  to  the  mountain  tops  with  molten  topaz,  we 
turned  us  from  the  glory  ere  yet  it  had  declined,  and 
homeward  wound  our  thoughtful  way. 

The  sun  had  set  when  we  reached  the  village,  and 
the  threadbare  earth  stood  shivering  in  the  cold  and 
dark,  like  an  aged  gentleman  suddenly  reduced  from 
aflluence  to  want.  But  from  my  friend's  door,  as  I 
paused  a  moment  to  see  him  enter,  there  came  a  burst 
of  mingled  light  and  warmth,  like  the  sortie  of  a  garri- 


BERRY   POXD.  67 


son  to  cover  the  entrance  of  a  friend,  and  beat  back  the 
beleaguring  forces  of  the  night. 

0  ye  to  whom  the  blessed  haven  of  home  opens 
wide  its  friendly  gates  to  shelter  you  from  the  Autumn 
and  the  night,  thank  God  the  giver  for  all  his  blessings, 
but  chiefly  for  this ;  and  for  the  rest  of  us,  patience, 
patience  and  courage !  There  shall  be  a  haven  for 
us  also. 

Yours,  Truly, 

H. 


CHAPTER    VII. 


THE     WIZARDS     GLEN. 


A  four  miles'  drive  from  our  village  brings  the  ex- 
cursionist to  a  deep  gorge,  now  called  the  "  Gulf,"  but 
known  in  the  earlier  and  less  sceptical  days  of  the 
settlement  as  the  "  "Wizard's  Glen."  It  is  the  wildest 
scene  in  our  immediate  neighborhood.  A  narrow  val- 
ley is  enclosed  by  steep  hills,  covered  far  up  their  sides 
with  the  huge  rectangular  flint  rocks  which  mark  this 
whole  mountain  range.  You  see  them  scattered  every 
where,  from  Greylock  to  Taghconic ;  but  nowhere  else 
—  unless,  perhaps,  at  Icy  Glen  —  piled  up  in  such 
magnificent  and  chaotic  profusion.  It  is  as  though  an 
angry  Jove  had  here  thrown  down  some  impious  wall 
of  the  Heaven-defying  Titans.  Block  lies  heaped  upon 
block,  squared  and  bevelled,  as  if  by  more  than  mortal 
art,  for  of  such  adamantine  hardness  are  they,  that  never 
hand  nor  implement  of  man  could  carve  them  into 
symmetry. 

In  their  desolation  they  seemed  charmed  to  ever- 
lasting changelessness ;  storm  and  sunshine  leave  few 
traces  upon  them ;  the  trickling  stream  wears  no  chan- 
nel in  their  obdurate  surface ;  only  a  falling  thunderbolt 
sometimes  splinters  an  uplifted  crag,  and  marks  its 
course  by  a  scar  of  more  livid  whiteness.     No  flower 


wizard's  glen.  69 


springs  from,  no  creeping  plant  clings  to  them  for  sup- 
port, save  when  the  rare  Herb  Robert  would  fain  cheer 
them  with  his  tiny  blossom  ;  or  some  starveling  lichen 
strives  to  shroud  the  livid  ghastliness  of  their  hues. 

It  is  a  stern  featured  place ;  and  yet  of  a  warm 
Summer  afternoon,  one  —  no,  not  one,  it  is  too  intensely 
sombre  for  that  —  but  a  party  can  pass  a  merry  hour 
there,  in  the  cool  depths  of  the  ravine.  There  are 
some  books  too,  written  in  a  spirit  akin  to  the  fantastic 
and  demoniac  grandeur  of  the  place,  which  can  be 
read  there  with  a  double  zest.  Perched  between  the 
double  angles  of  a  cleft  boulder,  I  once  keenly  enjoyed 
some  scenes  in  "  Faust."  "  Manfred "  would  not  be 
out  of  place  there,  nor  would  some  parts  of  "  Festus." 

But  the  best  is,  to  mark  how  the  most  humanly 
merry  laughter  and  the  gentlest  of  gentle  voices  catch 
a  fiendish  echo  from  the  rocky  hollows.  There  is 
diablerie  in  the  very  air ;  the  fairest  form  I  ever  kne^w, 
as  it  rose  from  behind  one  of  those  enchanted  rocks, 
looked  weird  as  Lilith,  the  first  wife  of  Adam.  He- 
cate herself  could  not  have  emerged  from  Hades  with 
half  the  infernal  grace  and  beauty ;  I  am  sure  the 
place  is  bewitched. 

Tradition  indeed  says  that,  before  the  decay  of  the 
native  tribes,  —  of  whom  a  scanty  remnant  were  found 
by  the  white  man  in  the  valley  of  the  Housatonic,  — 
this  used  to  be  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  Indian  Priests, 
or  Wizards.  Here,  it  was  said,  they  wrought  their 
hellish  incantations,  and  with  horrible  rites  offered  up 
human  sacrifices  to  Ho-bo-mock-o,  the  Spirit  of  Evil. 
One  broad,  square  rock,  which  chanced  to  stand  alone 
in  the  midst  of  a  conveniently  clear  space,  had  the 
6 


70  TAGnCONIC. 


credit  of  being  the  Devil's  altar-stone.  Some  crimson 
stains  marked  its  upper  surface,  upon  which  the  earlier 
settlers  could  not  look  without  a  shudder.  They  were 
believed  to  come  from  the  blood  of  frequent  victims, — 
although,  now-a-days,  a  sceptic  with  no  analysis  at  all 
would  find  little  difficulty  in  resolving  them  into  "  traces 
of  iron  ore."  For  my  part,  until  the  analysis  is  made, 
I  hold  fast  to  the  older  and  better  opinion  of  those  who 
believed  that  around  this  ensanguined  shrine  a  spectral 
crew  of  savage  wizards  nightly  reenacted  the  revolting 
orgies  of  the  past. 

I  met,  not  long  since,  an  old  man  of  ninety  "Winters, 
—  perhaps  the  last  believer  in  their  superstitions.  He 
had  heard  the  story  of  the  shadowy  sacrifices  from  an 
eye-witness,  and  related  it  with  a  credulous  simplicity 
very  difficult  to  gainsay. 

Not  far  from  the  year  1770,  (as  he  said,)  one  John 
Chamberlain,  a  brave  man  and  a  mighty  hunter,  of 
Ashuelot,  (now  Dalton,)  at  the  close  of  a  hard  day's 
chase,  overtook  and  slew  a  deer,  somewhere  within  the 
Wizard's  Glen.  While  he  was  dressing  his  quarry,  a 
terrific  storm  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  hail  arose,  — 
as  Chamberlain  averred,  with  supernatural  celerity, 
as  such  often  seem  to  do  among  the  mountains.  A 
thunder-storm,  even  in  the  ordinary  course,  is  not  just 
the  thing  to  be  coveted  in  this  place,  by  the  hardiest 
deer  slayer ;  but  come  what  will,  he  must  make  the 
best  of  it.  Seeking  out,  therefore,  a  spot  where  the 
rocks  were  piled  one  upon  another,  with  cavernous 
recesses  that  formed  a  sort  of  natural  caravansary  be- 
neath, he  drew  his  deer  under  one  boulder  and  en- 
sconced  himself  snugly  under    the  shelter  of  another. 


HIS    SATANIC    MAJESTY.  71 

Thus  protected,  he  betook  himself  to  such  slumbers 
as  he  might  get,  which  turned  out  to  be  not  the  most 
peaceful.  The  thunder  crashed,  the  lightning  glared 
and  the  wind  howled  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to  our 
poor  John  altogether  demoniacal.  Sleep,  in  such  a 
hurly-burly  of  the  elements,  was  out  of  the  question  ; 
so,  raising  himself  up  he  looked  out  among  the  rocks, 
as  he  could  very  well  do  by  the  aid  of  the  scarcely 
intermittent  lightning. 

You  may  be  sure  that,  with  all  his  courage,  our 
hunter  was  not  quite  pleased  to  find  himself  in  full 
view  of  the  Devil's  altar-stone.  It  was  an  ugly  predic- 
ament, to  say  the  least  of  it ;  but  there  was  no  help  in 
the  case,  and  he  had  only  to  make  the  best  he  could  of 
this  also,  which  turned  out  to  be  bad  enough  again. 
His  eyes  once  fixed  upon  it,  the  haunted  spot  kept  them 
riveted  by  a  terrible  fascination,  while  Chamberlain 
reflected  upon  his  position  in  a  state  of  mind  which  was 
doubtless  far  enough  from  that  of  philosophic  calmness. 

Very  soon,  however,  his  reflections  were  interrupted 
by  a  wilder  rush  of  the  storm,  and  a  yet  broader  and 
more  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  which  illumined  the  whole 
valley  and  revealed  the  horned  Devil  himself,  seated 
upon  a  broken  crag  and  clothed  in  all  the  recognised 
paraphernalia  of  his  royalty.  Chamberlain  thought 
him  a  very  Indiany-looking  devil  indeed,  which  rather 
pleased  him  afterwards  to  tell,  for  he  was  no  lover  of 
the  Indian  race. 

This  was  apparently  a  gala  night  with  Satan,  although 
none  of  the  guests  were  yet  arrived.  lie  was  not  now 
going  to  battle  or  to  work,  but  rather  to  hold  a  royal 
drawing-room,  by  way  of  enjoying  himself  and  receiv- 


72  TAGIICONIC. 


ing  homage.  His  Sable  Majesty  is  well  aware  that 
they  who  would  maintain  authority  must  never  too 
much  relax  their  dignity;  so,  upon  this  occasion  h<-  -.it 
enthroned  with  a  very  commanding  and  royal  grace, 
while  the  arrowy  lightnings  shot  in  circles  round  his 
head,  —  very  much,  I  judge,  as  you  may  have  seen  the 
swallows  dart  and  soar  of  a  Summer  evening,  around 
an  old  church  steeple. 

His  Majesty  had  not  long  to  wait  for  his  loving 
lieges,  for  suddenly  from  the  darkness  a  huge,  gaunt- 
framed  wizard  leaped  out  and  mounted  the  altar-stone. 
If  Chamberlain  lias  not  painted  him  blacker  than  he 
deserves,  this  Higb  Priest  of  Satan  was  a  most  villain- 
ous-looking rascal.  His  raw-boned  and  ghastly  visage 
was  painted  in  most  blood-thirsty  ugliness  ;  scalps,  drip- 
ping with  fresh  blood,  hung  around  his  body  in  festoons  ; 
on  his  own  scull,  by  way  of  scalp  lock,  burned  a  lam- 
bent blue  flame ;  his  distended  veins  shone  through  the 
bright  copper-colored  skin  as  if  they  were  filled  with 
molten  fire  for  blood  —  and,  as  for  his  eyes,  they  glowed 
with  a  fiercer  light  than  those  of  the  arch  fiend  himself; 
from  whence  Chamberlain  maintained  that  an  Indian 
Priest  was  at  least  one  degree  more  devilish  than  the 
Devil  himself. 

The  present  was  evidently  a  very  potent  magician, 
for  at  his  call  a  throng  of  ghastly  and  horrible  phan- 
toms came  pouring  in  from  every  nook  and  cranny  of 
the  valley — each  with  a  shadowy  tomahawk  and  a 
torch,  which  did  not  burn  with  the  honest  and  ruddy 
glare  of  pitch  pine,  but  with  a  blue  color  and  sulphur- 
ous odor,  that  revealed  unmistakeably  at  what  fire  they 
had  been  lighted. 


THE    INDIAN*    MAIDEN.  73 

Every  ghost,  as  he  came  in,  made  a  profound  obeis- 
ance to  the  rock  throned  Satan,  and  then  took  his  place 
in  the  circle  around  the  altar-stone.  By  and  bye,  the 
Chief  Priest  set  up  a  wild,  howling  chant,  and  away 
went  the  whole  rabble  rout,  yelling  and  rushing  round 
the  altar  in  a  mad,  galloping  sort  of  a  dance,  in  which 
they  lifted  their  feet  all  the  while,  as  if  treading  upon 
burning  coals  or  red-hot  iron  —  a  step  which  is  only 
learned  in  the  dancing-schools  down  below.  Many 
more  such  diabolical  antics  they  cut,  which,  as  they 
would  neither  be  profitable  by  way  of  example  or 
warning,  it  does  not  matter  to  tell. 

At  last  they  paused,  and  Chamberlain  thought  it 
about  time  for  them  to  take  themselves  off;  but  they 
were  far  enough  from  that.  On  the  contrary,  two  bar- 
barous looking  phantoms  —  who  might  in  life  have  been 
familiars  to  a  savage  inquisition  —  presented  themselves, 
leading  between  them  a  beautiful  Indian  maiden,  robed 
only  in  her  own  long,  black  hair.  At  another  moment 
the  beholder  might  have  admired  her  graceful  propor- 
tions and  regular  features,  —  as  he  did  when  he  after- 
wards remembered  them,  —  but  now  his  senses  were 
too  much  absorbed  by  horror.  Not  a  word  the  poor 
girl  spoke,  but,  stupified  and  silent,  looked  round  from 
one  unrelenting  face  to  another,  as  if  at  a  loss  to  com- 
prehend what  it  all  meant.  Poor  girl !  she  soon  knew ; 
for  one  of  the  familiars,  seizing  her  rudely  around  the 
waist,  placed  her  upon  the  altar-stone,  before  the  priest. 
Then  she  shrieked  —  so  wildly  that  the  hunter  declared 
the  echo  never  ceased  ringing  in  his  ears  to  his  dying 
day ;  —  what  part  she  had  to  perform  then  was  no 
longer  doubtful.  But  she  shrieked  not  again  nor  spoke, 
6* 


74  TAGIICONIC. 


—  only  looked  up  into  the  fiery  eyes  of  the  priest  so 
piteously  that  it  seemed  his  heart  should  have  melted, 
had  it  been  formed  even  of  flint  like  the  stone  on  which 
he  stood ;  but  it  had  been  hardened  in  more  infernal 
fires. 

So  he  took  up  his  demoniac  howl  again,  and  went 
capering  madly  around  the  maiden.  Then,  suddenly 
pausing  before  her,  he  raised  his  hatchet  and  the  whole 
phantom  circle  gathered  closer  around  him,  as  if  to 
gloat  more  nearly  over  their  victim's  pangs.  It  seemed 
the  sacrifice  was  about  to  be  consummated  ;  but  as  the 
weapon  was  raised,  the  maiden's  eyes  (averted  from  it) 
met  those  of  Chamberlain.  The  kind-hearted  hunter, 
in  whom  compassion  had  overcome  fear,  could  no  longer 
restrain  himself;  so,  taking  out  his  Bible,  he  pronounced 
the  great  Name,  —  and  with  a  terrific  crash  of  the 
elements  the  whole  scene  vanished,  leaving  him  in 
impenetrable  darkness,  —  for  although  the  lightnings 
ceased,  as  if  they  had  accompanied  their  master  in  his 
flight,  yet  the  rain  fell  faster  than  ever. 

When  the  morning  came,  Chamberlain  would  have 
taken  it  all  for  a  dream,  for,  exhausted  with  fatigue 
and  excitement,  he  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep ;  but 
he  found  that  the  wizards,  unable  to  harm  him,  while 
protected  by  the  holy  volume,  had  revenged  themselves 
by  stealing  his  deer,  and  perhaps  giving  it  to  their 
familiars,  the  bears — for  there  were  bears  in  those 
days  —  so  that  there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt  as  to 
the  truth  and  accuracy  of  Chamberlain's  story. 

There  is  many  another  legend  of  this  haunted  dell ; 
as  for  this,  I  hope  you  place  the  same  implicit  confi- 
dence in  it  which  my  old  informant  did. 


THE    GORGE    BY   NIGHT.  76 

Passing  through  the  gorge  very  late,  one  piercing 
cold  Winter  night,  the  place  looked  very  weird  to  me. 
The  frozen  air  was  still  as  death ;  the  white  moonlight 
was  reflected  from  the  snow,  as  I  fancied,  with  more  of 
pallor  than  of  brightness,  and  I  heard  a  shriek  which  I 
tried  to  believe  came  from  the  maiden  victim.  But  it 
may  have  been  the  scream  of  some  far-off  locomotive 
Confound  those  "  resonant  steam  eagles  !  "  —  there 's 
never  a  shriek,  from  Cape  Cod  to  the  Taghconics  — 
though  with  the  ghostliest  ring  to  it  — but  they  get  the 
credit. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OUR  RURAL   CEMETERY. 

Ax  eye,  observant  of  such  things,  finds  few  studies 
more  delicately  curious  than  to  watch  those  customs 
which  are  rapidly,  but  almost  imperceptibly,  clustering 
to  form  our  national  character.  The  rude  and  cbaotic 
elements  seem,  even  while  we  look  upon  them,  to 
become  conscious  of  order's  laws,  and  to  crystallize 
around  the  nucleus  of  puritanic  vigor  into  the  sbapely 
and  lustrous  gem.  Among  these  customs,  not  the  least 
purely  beautiful  is  that  of  the  consecration  of  rural 
cemeteries  in  peaceful  and  retired  spots,  —  where  the 
dead  may  find  undisturbed  repose,  and  the  living  may 
weep  over  them,  far  removed  from  the  noisy  clang  of 
jarring  throngs.  There  Nature  and  Art  combine  to 
dissociate  from  Death  his  long  accustomed  horrors ; 
and  there,  though  he  still  reign  King  of  Terrors,  he  is 
content  to  wear,  not  his  iron  crown,  but  his  chaplet  of 
the  poplar  leaf —  dark  indeed  without,  but  silver  white 
within. 

Are  not  our  American  morals  of  the  grave  —  where 
they  have  developed  themselves  in  their  highest  per- 
fection —  beautiful  and  peculiar  ?  Think  how  many  of 
the  purest  elements  from  other  times  and  other  nations 
have  combined  to  form  them  !     The  Egyptian's  sacred 


OUR   RURAL    CEMETERY.  77 


reverence  for  the  ruined  palace  of  the  soul ;  the  Gre- 
cian's graceful  celebration  in  song  and  sculpture ;  the 
Frenchman's  clinging,  passionate  love  for  the  perishing 
body ;  and  overruling  and  pervading  all,  our  fathers' 
stern  but  hopeful  faith  that  the  immortal  soul  stays  not 
nor  lingers,  on  its  way  from  Earth,  in  any  retreat  — 
however  lovely  and  however  consecrated.  After  all,  it 
is  for  the  living,  and  not  the  dead,  that  we  set  apart 
our  holy  grounds. 

Such  were  some  of  the  thoughts  which  passed  over 
me,  as  I  went  out  to-day  to  witness  the  consecration  of 
our  Rural  Cemetery.  Nor  could  I  refrain  from  some 
sad  reminiscences  of  one  soft  and  balmy  day,  many 
years  ago,  when,  with  a  party  of  youthful  friends  I 
went  out  to  unite  with  the  people  of  my  far  off  native 
city,  in  ceremonies  like  those  which  I  to-day  have  wit- 
nessed among  strangers.  It  was  one  of  those  occasions 
to  which  we  look  back  as  to  a  "  far  off  isle  in  the  stormy 
sea  of  years ; "  one  of  those  land-marks  by  which  we 
determine  how  far  we  have  advanced  towards  the  far- 
ther shore. 

More  than  half  the  little  group  who  were  with  me 
that  Summer  day,  have  fallen  in  their  youth,  and  are 
laid  to  sleep  among  the  dim  woods  of  that  oak  crowned 
hill,  which  we  then  dedicated  to  peace  and  consecrated 
by  the  sweetly  significant  name  of  "  Mount  Hope." 
Upon  how  many  of  those  who  remain  does  a  painful 
sense  of  loneliness  weigh,  until  they  almost  wish  that 
they  too  had  their  home  in  its  bosom. 

As  to-day  I  looked  among  the  crowd  who  had  col- 
lected at  the  new  cemetery,  the  countenance  of  a  fair 
girl,  known  to  me  only  by  name,  recalled,  as  it  had 


78  TAGHCONIC. 


often  done  before,  the  memory  of  another  grandly  sol- 
emn burial  place,  on  the  distant  plains  of  Pegepscot, 
surrounded  by  dark  and  lofty  woods,  — 

"  Where  the  solemn  night  wind  marches 
Through  the  pine's  cathedral  arches 
Solemnly." 

It  was  there  that  one  bearing  the  same  name,  and  in 
whose  veins  flowed  the  same  blood,  was  long  ago  laid 
in  youth  to  rest.  Around  her  tomb  rise  the  monuments 
of  divines,  and  scholars,  and  statesmen ;  and  the  more 
touching  memorials  of  vanished  youth  and  beauty  clus- 
ter near ;  but  none  have  such  a  fascination  for  the  lin- 
gerer as  the  white  tablet  on  which  is  inscribed  the  name 
and  age  of  the  President's  daughter.  How  often  will 
he  lean  over  that  sepulchral  marble  and  strive  to  depict 
to  his  fancy  the  manner  and  fashion  of  the  beautiful 
who  sleeps  so  unconsciously  below. 

The  solemn  ceremonies  of  to-day,  thus  half  sadly,  half 
pleasantly  recalled  other  days  in  those  distant  cemeteries. 
In  the  clear  sunshine  of  October,  we  assembled  by 
thousands,  —  young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and 
children,  —  on  a  grove  shaded  knoll,  surrounded  by 
lawns  and  lake,  wood  and  stream,  to  be  hereafter  more 
emphatically  than  others  — 


"  the  solemn  decorations  all 
Of  the  great  tomb  of  man." 


We  had  come  in  sadness,  although  not  in  sorrow. 
Nothing  impaired  the  becoming  solemnity  of  the  scene  ; 
and  when  the  full  swell  of  the  chorals  had  ceased,  when 
the  sacred  words  of  Scripture  were  read  and  the  conse- 


OUR    RURAL    CEMETERY.  79 

crating  prayer  was  said,  all  shared  the  emotions  of  the 
orator  as  he  began  :  "  Have  we  been  persuaded  —  an 
assembly  of  the  living  —  to  look  upon  the  very  ground 
where  we  may  sleep  ?  Impelled  by  a  desire  to  do 
honor  to  the  dead,  have  we  come  within  the  precincts 
of  a  spot  where  every  shadow  seems  now  to  deepen, 
and  where  the  mountains  point  so  significantly  to  the 
skies  ?  " 

Few  things  of  the  kind  are  so  classically  and  chris- 
tianly  beautiful  as  was  this  entire  Address,  by  Rev. 
Mr.  Neill,  of  Lenox  —  one  of  our  finest  scholars  and 
most  eloquent  divines. 

Then  followed  the  Poem,  by  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  —  of  which  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to 
copy  a  great  part.  None  can  feel  an  adequate  admi- 
ration for  the  poetry  of  Dr.  Holmes,  unless  they  hear 
it  from  his  own  lips.     But  read  :  — 


■  Angel  of  Death !    Extend  thy  silent  reign  ! 
Stretch  thy  dark  sceptre  o'er  this  new  domain  ! 
No  sable  car  along  the  winding  road 
Has  borne  to  earth  its  unresisting  load ; 
No  sudden  mound  has  risen  yet  to  show 
Where  the  pale  slumberer  folds  his  arms  below; 
No  marble  gleams  to  bid  his  memory  live 
In  the  brief  lines  that  hurrying  Time  can  give; 
Tet,  O  Destroyer !    From  thy  shrouded  throne 
Look  on  our  gift;  this  realm  is  all  thine  own  ! 

1  Fair  is  the  scene ;  its  sweetness  oft  beguiled 
From  their  dim  paths  the  children  of  the  wild ; 
The  dark-haired  maiden  loved  its  grassy  dells, 
The  feathered  warrior  claimed  its  wooded  swells, 
Still  on  its  slopes  the  ploughman's  ridges  show 
The  pointed  flints  that  left  his  fatal  bow, 
Chipped  with  rough  art  and  slow  barbarian  toil,— 
Last  of  his  wrecks  that  strews  tbc  alien  soil ! 

'  Here  spread  the  fields  that  waved  their  ripened  store 
Till  the  brown  arms  of  Labor  held  no  more ; 


80  TAGHCONIC. 


The  scythe's  broad  meadow  with  its  dusky  blash; 

The  sickle's  harvest  with  its  velvet  flush  ; 

The  green-haired  maize,  her  silken  tresses  laid, 

In  soft  luxuriance,  on  her  harsh  brocade; 

The  gourd  that  swells  beneath  her  tossing  plume; 

The  coarser  wheat  that  rolls  in  lakes  of  bloom,— 

Its  coral  stems  and  milk-white  flowers  alive 

With  the  wide  murmurs  of  the  scattered  hive ; 

The  glossy  apple  with  the  pencilled  streak 

Of  morning  painted  on  its  southern  check; 

The  pear's  long  necklace  strung  with  golden  drops, 

Arched,  like  the  banyan,  o'er  its  hasty  props; 

The  humble  roots  that  paid  the  laborer's  care 

With  the  cheap  luxuries  wealth  consents  to  spare ; 

The  healing  herbs  whose  virtues  could  not  save 

The  hand  that  reared  them  from  the  neighboring  grave. 

"  Yet  all  its  varied  charms,  forever  free 
From  task  and  tribute,  Labor  yields  to  thee; 
No  more  when  April  sheds  her  fitful  rain 
The  sower's  hand  shall  cast  its  flying  grain  ; 
No  more  when  Autumn  strews  the  flaming  leaves 
The  reaper's  band  shall  gird  its  yellow  sheaves; 
For  thee  alike  the  circling  seasons  flow 
Till  the  first  blossoms  heave  the  latest  snow. 
In  the  stiff"  clod  below  the  whirling  drifts, 
In  the  loose  soil  the  springing  herbage  lifts, 
In  the  hot  dust  beneath  the  parching  weeds 
Life's  wilting  flower  shall  drop  its  shrivelled  seeds; 
Its  germ  entranced  in  thy  unbreathing  sleep 
Till  what  thou  sowest  mightier  angels  reap ! 

1  Spirit  of  Beauty !    Let  thy  graces  blend 
With  loveliest  Nature  all  that  Art  can  lend. 
Come  from  the  bowers  where  Summer's  life-blood  flows 
Through  the  red  lips  of  June's  half  open  rose, 
Dressed  in  bright  hues,  the  loving  sunshine's  dower; 
For  tranquil  Nature  owns  no  mourning  flower. 

Come  from  the  forest  where  the  beech's  screen 
Bars  the  fierce  noonbeam  with  its  flakes  of  green ; 
Stay  the  rude  axe  that  bares  the  shadowy  plains, 
Staunch  the  deep  wound  that  dries  the  maple's  veins. 

Come  with  the  stream  whose  silver-braided  rills 
Fling  their  unclasping  bracelets  from  the  hills, 
Till  in  one  gleam,  beneath  the  forest's  wings, 
Melts  the  white  glitter  of  a  hundred  springs. 

Come  from  the  steeps  where  look  majestic  forth 
From  their  twin  thrones  the  Giants  of  the  North  — 
On  the  huge  shapes  that  crouching  at  their  knees, 
Stretch  their  broad  shoulders,  rough  with  shaggy  trees. 


DR.    HOLMES'S    POEM.  81 

Through  the  wide  waste  of  ether,  not  in  vain 
Their  softened  gaze  shall  reach  our  distant  plain; 
There,  while  the  mourner  turns  his  aching  eyes 
On  the  blue  mounds  that  print  the  bluer  skies, 
Nature  shall  whisper  that  the  fading  view 
Of  mightiest  grief  may  wear  a  heavenly  hue." 

With  this  let  us  close  our  notes  of  this  day  of  high 
but  melancholy  pleasure. 


CHAP  T  ER  IX. 

AN  HOUR  IN  OUR  CEMETERY BEING  BRIEF 

RECORDS  OF  CONVERSATION. 

"  I  could  wish  to  have  the  shadow  of  Death  upon  me  till  my  soul  had  truly 

and  rightly  felt  it." 

MOUNTFOBD. 

One  stilly  Sabbath  evening,  as  the  full  splendor  of 
the  harvest  moon  Avas  following  hard  upon  the  retiring 
gleams  of  a  cloudless  sunset,  we  found  ourselves  at 
the  gate  of  our  new  cemetery.  It  was  not  long  since, 
with  admiring  thousands,  we  had  there  listened  to  the 
memorable  eloquence  and  poetry  which  had  consecrated 
it  to  Peace ;  but  the  croAvd  had  gone  their  way,  and  the 
place  was  very  solitary  now  in  its  loveliness.  It  was 
as  though  the  Peace  which  had  been  invoked  descended 
visibly  upon  the  sacred  grove. 

"  All  sounds  were  hushed  —  of  labor  or  of  mirth. ' ' 

Only,  consonant  with  the  hour  and  the  place,  the  monot- 
onous tolling  of  a  distant  bell,  and  the  low,  lulling  mur- 
mur of  the  Housatonic  soothed  the  ear  and  invited  us 
within  the  leafy  sanctuary.     We  entered. 

Edward  Brancton.  We  have  been  often  here, 
Godfrey,  and  yet  to-night  how  novel  seems  the  familiar 
scene.     With   what    sharpness   of  pencilling  is   drawn 


THE  CEMETERY.  83 


this  net  work  shadow  of  bough  and  loaf;  and  that  single 
oak  by  the  lakelet's  side,  how  finely  it  stands  out  from 
its  dark  back-ground  ! 

Godfrey  Greylock.  Yes  ;  and  how  perfectly  the 
unruffled  water  mirrors  back  its  undistorted  image ! 
The  image  is  fairer  than  the  substance. 

Edward.  There  is  deeper  gloom,  too,  under  those 
sombre  hemlocks ;  and  see  !  up  yonder  knoll,  how  the 
ghostly  forms  of  the  sheeted  birch  start  out  upon  us 
from  the  wood  ;  — • 


'•  Nothing  but  doth  suffer  a  night  change, 
Into  something  rich  and  strange." 


Such  a  change  as  our  fathers'  fancied  came  over  the 
wight,  who,  on  a  weird  night  like  this,  strayed  into  the 
charmed  circle  of  the  fairy  folk.  Oh,  what  a  fit  realm 
were  this  for  fairy  queen !  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  not 
enchanted  ground. 

Godfrey.  Alas,  this  place  shall  bear  the  record  of 
sadder  mutations  than  those  of  superstitious  fancy  or 
of  changing  lights.  They  who  shall  hereafter  tread 
these  avenues  will  find  food  for  more  melancholy,  per- 
haps more  profitable  meditations  than  ours. 

Edward.  Yet  hath  the  new  tomb,  wherein  was 
never  man  laid,  its  own  peculiar  lesson.  There  is  a 
singular  charm  for  me  in  our  graveless  cemetery  —  this 
virgin  bride  of  Death. 

Godfrey.  Doubtless  it  is  well  for  us  to  be  here. 
We  do  well  to  contemplate  anything  upon  which  the 
shadow  of  Death  hath  fallen.  Whatever  that  dark 
spirit  touches  he  invests  with  a  portion  of  his  own  sub- 
lime terrors  ;  and  after  the  unapproachable  One,  where 


84  TAGIICONIC. 


shall  we  look  for  such  awful  majesty  !  It  is  my  passion 
to  meditate  upon  him  where  the  garish  light  of  life 
maintains  no  contests  with  his  congenial  shades. 

Edward.  I,  now,  on  the  contrary,  would  bid  the 
most  cheerful  light  of  day,  or  such  a  silver  radiance  as 
this,  fall  upon  the  tomb  I  love ;  I  cannot  grudge  a  por- 
tion of  the  common  sunshine  to  paint  the  daisy  that 
grows  above  the  dead.  Your  gloomy  mould-collecting 
cypress  and  yew  are  not  for  me.  Let  us  plant  about 
the  resting  places  of  our  departed  the  feathery  elm,  the 
maple,  and  the  silver-leafed  poplar.  Divest  the  tyrant 
of  your  imagination  of  his  horror-striking  sceptre ;  he 
reigns  only  by  your  submission. 

Godfrey.  It  is  in  vain.  Christianise  or  stoicise  as 
we  will,  the  last  change  —  the  mysterious  soul  parting 
—  remains  the  great  terror  of  our  humanity.  Why 
should  we  wish  it  otherwise  ?  The  soul  trembles  with 
awe,  as  it  expands  to  receive  the  impression  of  some 
overpowering  object  of  sense  —  the  Alps,  the  ocean, 
or  St.  Peter's  dome.  Should  it  not  thrill  at  the 
passage  from  the  little  known  to  the  boundless  un- 
known ? 

Edward.  And  yet,  by  Faith,  martyrs  and  dying 
saints  have  entered  upon  that  mysterious  path  with 
smiles  and  songs  of  triumph. 

Godfrey.  And  so  by  their  sort  of  faith  have 
pagans  and  infidels ;  but  so  could  not  I.  Do  you  think 
that  Columbus  smiled,  when,  in  the  morning's  grey,  he 
beheld,  dim  and  indistinct,  the  reality  of  a  life's  long 
dream?  Neither  should  you,  to  behold,  in  the  dim 
light  of  Death,  the  eternal  shore,  —  although  you  knew 
it  to  be  the  heavenly  goal  of  a  life's  best  hopes.     Be 


DEATH.  85 

assured  we  make  too  liglitly  of  this  matter  when  we 
speak  of  crowning  the  majesty  of  Deatli  with  roses. 
There  is  mockery  in  it  and  treason,  that  I,  for  one,  will 
not  plot  against  the  King  of  Terrors. 

Edward.  Yet  surely  you  would  not  set  up  a  skel- 
eton  image  for  us  to  worship  ! 

Godfrey.  By  no  means.  Why  personify  Death  at 
all  ?  Let  us  leave  him  rather  as  does  Milton  —  a  vast, 
awful,  but  undefined  image,  which  the  soul  may  con- 
template in  varying  but  ever  reverential  mood.  We 
wrongly  strive  to  make  Death  familiar  to  our  thought. 

Edward.  There  can  be  no  irreverence  or  profana- 
tion in  holding  frequent  and  familiar  converse  with 
Death,  since  He  —  only  whose  stern  minister  the  dark 
angel  is  —  invites  us  to  commune  with  Himself  as  with 
a  friend. 

Godfrey.  The  oft  communion  is  well ;  the  familiar, 
sentimental  talk  of  Death,  I  deem  to  be  ill,  unreal, 
meaningless,  not  to  endure  when  the  reality  comes ;  a 
trick  to  soothe  the  terrors  of  a  distant  contemplation  of 
Death,  which  will  fail  us  altogether  at  the  last,  in  the 
near  dread  presence.  We  presume  too  much  on  the 
communion  we  are  permitted  to  hold  with  our  Maker. 
I  have  heard  pious,  good  men  address  the  Ruler  of  the 
Universe  in  flippant  tones,  and  even  with  advice  — 
such  as  they  would  not  dare  address  to  the  merest  vil- 
lage potentate.  Let  us  think  of  Him  with  reverence, 
as  our  Creator,  our  King,  our  Judge ;  with  greater 
trembling  as  our  Father  and  Friend.  Let  us  speak  of 
Him  with  profoundest  awe,  as  the  Most  High  God, — 
fearful  in  praises,  doing  wonders ;  as  did  the  royal 
7* 


8G  TA'.IM   "M.   . 


Psalmist,  bowing  before  liim  with  the  devotion  of  the 
lowliest  subject. 

Edward.  With  the  affection  of  a  child  for  a  pa- 
rent as  well. 

Godfrey.  Yes,  with  that  filial  affection  of  the  Ori- 
entals—  more  informed  with  awe  than  the  homage  of 
the  most  :d»ject  slave  of  the  most  iron  despotism. 

Edward.  Well,  let  these  cheerful  groves  and  glades 
answer  you.  This  lake,  which  they  have  called  by  the 
name  of  "St.  John  the  Beloved;"  —  this  oak,  which 
Stands  here  pointing  constantly  to  Heaven. 

Godfrky.  This  oak.  Do  you  know  L.  calls  it  the 
"  Dial  Oak  ? "  whose  circling  shadow,  at  some  time 
every  day,  points  each  man  to  his  grave.  By  the  bye, 
can  you  repeat  those  fine  lines  of  John  Malcolm's,  on 
a  dial ? 

Edward.     In  part. 


1  Vpon  a  dial  stone 
Behold  the  shade  of  time, 
Forever  circling  on  and  on 
In  silence  more  sublime 
Than  if  the  thunder  of  the  spheres 
Fealed  forth  its  march  to  mortal  ears ! 


'  It  meets  us  hour  by  hour, 
Doles  forth  our  little  span, 
Reveals  a  presence  and  a  power 
Felt  and  confessed  by  man ;  — 
The  drops  of  moments,  day  by  day, 
That  rocks  of  ages  wear  away. 


'  Woven  by  a  hand  unseen, 
Upon  that  stone  survey 
A  robe  of  dark  sepulchral  green, 
The  mantle  of  decay, — 
The  fold  of  chill  oblivion's  pall, 
'1  hat  ialleth  with  yon  shadow's  fall ! 


THE    DIAL.  87 

'  Day  is  the  time  for  toil,  — 
Night  balms  the  weary  breast,  — 
Stars  have  their  vigils,  —  seas,  awhile, 
"Will  sink  to  peaceful  rest ;  — 
Bat  round  ami  round  the  shadow  creeps 
Of  that  which  slumbers  not  nor  sleeps ! 

'  Before  the  ceaseless  shade 
That  round  the  world  doth  sail, 
It's  towers  and  temples  how  the  head, 
The  pyramids  look  pale, 
The  festal  halls  grow  hushed  and  cold, 
The  everlasting  hills  wax  old. 

1  Coeval  with  the  sun, 
It*  sihnt  course  began, 
And  still  its  phantom  race  shall  run 
Till  worlds  with  age  grow  wan, — 
Till  darkness  spread  her  funeral  pall, 
And  one  vast  shadow  circles  all !  " 


Godfrey.  See,  while  you  were  repenting,  the  moon 
has  gone  down  behind  Onota,  and  the  shadows  are 
deepening  around  us.     Have  they,  too,  no  lesson  ? 


CHAPTER     X. 

LENOX     AND      ITS      SCENERY. 

In  tradition,  and  in  books,  far  and  near,  is  Lenox 
known  as  one  of  the  most  charming  mountain  towns  in 
New  England.  The  traveller  never  forgets  the  joy 
which  breaks  in  upon  him  through  his  gratified  senses, 

when  on  a  fresh  Summer  morning,  he  mounts  its  hill 
for  the  first  time.  He  knows  not  whether  to  admire 
most  the  rural  neatness  of  its  quiet  village,  the  pure, 
sweet  air  whose  briskness  so  braces  his  nerves,  or  the 
varied  beauty  of  its  landscapes.  How  it  cools  a 
fevered  brain,  and  restores  the  elasticity  of  a  depressed 
spirit,  to  feel  oneself  treading  freely  upon  green  earth 
unbounded  by  iron  railings,  and  to  gaze  into  a  blue  sky 
unclouded  by  smoke  and  dust !  Those  only  who  leave 
the  hot  terraces  and  singed  air  of  a  city,  can  worthily 
paneg}-rize  the  dewy  mornings,  the  cool,  luxuriant 
verdure,  and  the  wide  prospect  which  regale  the  senses 
in  a  mountain  region  like  ours.  VTc  take  an  honest 
pride  in  watching  the  glow  of  health  gradually  suffusing 
the  pale  cheeks  of  those  who  come  to  snuff  our  air. 
How  buovant  become  the  spirits,  let  loose  from  sickly 
confinement  upon  that  which  "  every  natural  heart 
enjoys ! "  How  ring  the  merry  shouts  up  our  joyous 
hills! 


LENOX.  89 

The  stranger  will  need  no  guide  to  find  such  charms. 
He  need  but  confidently  open  the  porches  of  his  senses 
and  it  shall  go  very  hard  if  they  fail  to  stream  in 
through  each  inlet.  It  matters  not  so  much  at  what 
season  he  come,  so  he  bring  with  him  a  mind  capable 
of  appreciating  and  enjoying  a  beauty  which  changes 
with,  every  varying  aspect  of  the  heavens.  There  is 
the  balm  of  a  May  morning ;  the  quickening  vitality  of 
the  warmth  of  June  ;  and  the  mellow  glory  of  October, 
—  as  well  as  the  comparative  freshness  of  our  July 
and  August,  to  those  who  follow  the  example  of  the 
Roman,  in  fleeing  from  "  mad  dogs  and  streets  black 
with  funerals,  to  gather  the  first  figs  of  the  season  in 
the  country."  They  are  doubtless  wise  in  the  light  of 
their  own  philosophy,  who  seek  a  rural  retreat  like 
ours,  for  a  month  or  two,  —  ready  to  hasten  back  to 
the  delights  of  "  trivial  pomp  and  city  noise,"  as  soon 
as  the  dog-star  abates  his  rage  a  little ;  but  let  not  such 
presume  to  fancy  themselves  at  all  conversant  with  the 
budding,  ripening,  and  fading  beauties  of  the  "  swelling 
year,"  as  it  unfolds  itself  in  our  hill  country ! 

But  to  the  mere  lover  of  natural  scenery,  though  he 
linger,  never  tiring  of  the  varied  pleasures  revealed  to 
him,  the  half  has  not  been  told.  He  who  regards  our 
village  only  as  a  part  of  the  "  great  world  of  eye  and 
car,"  may  be  deeply  impressed  with  its  claims  upon  his 
admiration,  and  yet  go  away  but  ill  prepared  to  do 
justice  to  its  truest  beauties.  A  Berkshire  "Winter  is 
almost  bleak  enough  to  become  a  proverb ;  but  some  of 
us,  who  have  braved  its  blasts,  would  not  barter  the 
prospect  which  it  brings,  of  the  genial  delights  of  warm 
fire-sides   and   warm    hearts,   for   the   prospect  of   an 


90  TAGIICONIC. 


Italian  spring,  or  of  three  months  in   the  spice-gro 

of  Araby  the  blest!  He  who  would  give  Lenox  its 
due  meed  of  praise,  must  be  abb;  to  Interweave  the 
first  Impressions  of  the  stranger  with  the  matured  ac- 
quaintance of  the  resident.  If  that  cannot  be  his  lot, 
we  would  tell  him  that  here  is  the  wealth  of  personal 
worth;  that  here  have  lived,  and  still  live,  many  whom 
the  world  delight  to  honor ;  that  here,  in  a  quiet  seclu- 
sion congenial  to  thought  and  fancy,  reflecting  and 
gifted  minds  have  plumed  many  "  winged  words  "  for 
a  ceaseless  flight. 

In  order  to  get  the  best  distant  view  of  Lenox,  you 
must  approach  it  by  the  Lebanon  road.  As  you  wind 
down  the  mountain,  you  get  occasional  glimpses  of  the 
spires  of  a  half-hid  village,  on  an  eminence  east  of  you. 
Soon  a  turn  in  the  road  brings  you  in  sight  of  a  broad, 
cultivated  swell  of  ground,  sloping  gently  up  from 
beneath  you,  on  the  brow  of  which,  so  embosomed  in 
shrubbery  that  it  promises  to  reveal  much  more  than 
you  are  now  permitted  to  see,  stands  the  main  part  of 
the  village.  The  spire  which  you  see  upon  the  left  is 
upon  the  steeple  of  the  Congregational  church,  which 
overlooks  the  village  from  an  eminence  north  of  it.  As 
you  approach,  the  tufts  of  trees  open  partially  and  dis- 
close a  cluster  of  white  houses  stretching  a  third  of  a 
mile  from  north  to  south,  and  upon  several  streets  con- 
verging towards  the  centre  of  the  village ;  the  whole  so 
thick  set  with  maples  and  elms  that  very  few  of  the 
buildings  can  be  distinctly  seen.  While  nearing  the 
village  from  this  direction,  you  have  on  the  right  a  fine 
view  over  a  broad,  green  valley,  extending  into  the 
towns  of  Stockbridge  and  "West  Stockbridge,  and  cooped 


LEXOX.  91 

snugly  in  on  all  sides  by  ridges  of  hills.  It  was  while 
travelling  over  this  same  road,  with  this  lovely  scene 
beneath  them,  that  a  party  of  Hungarians,  who  had 
come  to  Lenox  in  search  of  employment,  could  not  re- 
frain from  raising  their  hands  and  shouting  their  admi- 
ration to  the  full  extent  of  their  English,  in  repeated 
exclamations  of  "  beauty  !  beauty  !  " 

We  have  entered  Lenox  by  an  unusual  route.  If 
the  cars  on  the  Ilousatonic  railroad  set  you  down  at  the 
depot,  about  two  miles  from  the  village,  you  will  have 
a  carriage  ride  all  the  way  up  hill.  The  road  for  a  part 
of  the  way  is  delightful.  The  murmur  of  a  brook  on 
each  side  of  you  is  a  pleasant  exchange  for  the  hoarse 
mumbling  of  the  cars,  and  you  become  sensible  of  a 
purer  and  fresher  breeze  fanning  your  cheek  as  you 
ascend.  The  wild  luxuriance  of  the  scenery  on  all  sides, 
the  perfect  stillness  of  the  air,  save  when  broken  in  upon 
by  the  songs  of  birds,  singing  as  with  no  fear  of  being"  dis- 
turbed in  the  security  of  their  leafy  labyrinths ;  the  whole 
impression  of  a  scene  so  wild  and  native  is  so  utterly 
dissonant  from  the  ideas  suggested  by  the  sound  of  the 
whistle,  that,  —  if  we  may  forestall  the  traveller  in  his 
reflections,  —  the  incongruity  of  the  tales  told  to  your 
senses  will  be  the  burden  of  your  thoughts.  A  railroad 
through  the  marts  of  trade,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
or  even  over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  whither  the  gold 
region  invites,  you  could  contemplate  with  quiet  com- 
placency ;  but  here,  where  the  golden  age  still  seems  to 
linger,  the  vulgar  snortings  of  the  iron-horse  grate 
harshly  upon  the  ear.  If  the  Latin  poet  thought  that 
the  heart  of  that  man  who  first  thwarted  the  designs  of 
Heaven   in  cutting  off  the  land   from  the  "  unsociable 


92  TAGHCONIC. 


ocean,"  by  tempting  it  with  his  impious  bark,  most  have 
been  girt  with  "brass  and  triple  steel,"  judge,  O  ye 
gods !  how  insensate  must  that  wretch  have  been  who 
first  turned  tbe  leaden  eyes  of  railway  harpies  toward 
our  quiet  village !  How  must  slumber  have  forever 
forsaken  bis  eyelids  who  thus  "  murdered  sleep ! " 

But  your  memory  haying  been  recalled  to  tbe  fact 
that  you  are  on  tbe  way  to  Lenox,  you  will  b<-  wonder- 
ing, long  before  you  get  a  glimpse  of  it,  where  there 
can  be  a  village  so  far  up.  Your  expectation  almost 
tires  of  seeing  it  perched,  invitingly,  on  some  bill-top 
now  hid  from  view,  to  which  the  consideration  that  a 
"city  set  on  a  hill"  ought  not  to  be  hid,  certainly 
brings  no  relief;  but  notwithstanding  your  reflections, 
up  and  still  up  you  go,  till  you  suddenly  find  yourself 
in  the  back  streets  of  the  village.  Lenox  has  the  high- 
est elevation  of  any  village  in  the  county,  being  at 
least  thirteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea  level.  Yet 
situated  on  a  hill  among  hills,  protected  somewhat  by  a 
sort  of  amphitheatre  of  ridges,  without  being  shut  away 
from  the  cool  breezes  which  sweep  so  gratefully  over 
these  mountain  ranges  in  Summer,  the  thermometer 
actually  indicates  less  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  than  in 
tbe  villages  located  in  the  adjacent  valleys.  Whether 
it  be  principally  owing  to  its  position,  or  to  that  com- 
bined with  the  pleasing  inducement  to  walking  and 
riding  offered  by  the  shady  avenues  and  delightful 
roads  diverging  in  so  many  directions  from  Lenox,  or 
to  the  superadded  effect  of  the  cheerful  morality  which 
prevails,  that  the  cheeks  of  the  young  wear  such  a 
peculiarly  healthy  glow,  it  is  certain  that  this  never 
fails  to  attract  the  notice  of  strangers.     It  was  with  less 


LENOX.  93 

surprise  than  gratification,  considering  the  favorable- 
ness  to  health  of  the  locality,  and  of  the  pursuits  to 
which  its  inhabitants  are  devoted,  that  on  a  recent  ex- 
amination of  the  record  of  deaths,  faithfully  kept  for 
the  past  ten  years,  we  found  Lenox  to  be  by  far  the 
healthiest  town  in  the  county. 

The  public  buildings  of  the  county  are  situated  in 
Lenox.  The  Court-House  is  a  brick  edifice,  of  un- 
exceptionable taste  in  its  architecture,  and  furnished 
with  a  library  for  the  use  of  the  bar.  Here  also  is  an 
Academy,  which  being  the  oldest  in  Berkshire,  presents 
a  history  of  success  through  fifty  years,  seldom  equalled 
by  institutions  of  its  kind.  The  principal  Hotel  —  so 
situated  as  to  command  a  favorable  view,  both  of  the 
village  and  distant  scenery  —  has  become,  under  the 
care  of  its  efficient  proprietor,  M.  S.  Wilson,  Esq.,  a 
favorite  resort  for  visitors  from  the  cities. 

Unlike  the  rugged,  grotesque  scenery  to  be  met  with 
in  some  parts  of  Berkshire,  the  landscapes  adjacent  to 
Lenox  are  rather  of  a  picturesque  character.  There 
is  hardly  a  rod  of  level  land  in  the  town,  yet  there  is 
very  little  that  can  be  called  broken.  Even  the  hills, 
notwithstanding  their  bold  proximity,  present  such  a 
social  and  inviting  aspect,  that  no  one  in  whose  ear 
natural  scenery  speaks  an  intelligible  language,  will 
remain  long  in  sight  of  them  without  accepting  their 
invitation  to  climb  their  sunny  sides.  Bald  Summit, 
in  the  south-west,  tenders  as  tempting  a  request  as  any ; 
he  is  a  brave  "  specular  mount,"  and  will  repay  you 
witli  a  prospect  in  grandeur  and  beauty  not  easily  sur- 
passed. The  view  he  gives  you  is  wide,  rich,  and 
joyous,  —  nothing  in  the  range  of  your  vision  frowns. 


94  TAaHOOKIC. 


If  you  want  a  guide-book,  take  "L' Allegro"  with  you, 
and  passing  from  swell  to  swell,  from  hill  top  to  hill 
top,  all  the  region  over,  you  will  find  nothing  to  mar 
the  gayety  of  its  pictures.  Sunny  slopes,  covered  with 
"  meadows  trim ; "  delightful  swells  undulating  over 
broad,  green  valleys;  hills  on  whose  sides  cultivated 
fields  alternate  with  luxuriant  wood-land  patches — the 
very  summits  of  many  crowned  with  the  sweetest  pas- 
turage ;  little  lakes  of  peerless  beauty  smiling  out  of 
their  sheltered  beds  among  the  hills ;  villages  in  several 
directions,  embowered  in  shrubbery  that  tempers  the 
glow  of  their  white  buildings  ;  the  whole  scene  begirt 
in  the  distance,  in  some  directions,  by  sturdy  elevations, 
and  in  others  by  long  ridges  drawing  a  clear  line 
against  the  sky,  are  the  main  features  of  a  picture, —  for 
the  coloring  and  details  of  which  you  must  be  indebted 
to  Bald  Summit  himself. 

But  as  after  a  general  survey  of  a  face  you  always 
return  to  take  a  second  look  at  the  eye,  turn  now  to 
gaze  awhile  at  the  eye  of  our  landscape.  It  is  a  blue 
eye  now,  and  looks  out  lovingly  from  underneath  shel- 
tering brows ;  but  when  Heaven's  face  scowls  over 
these  hills,  it  blackens  and  scowls  too.  It  sparkles  and 
glances  in  the  jocund  light  of  morning ;  we  have  loved 
to  watch  it,  growing  soft  and  deep,  like  a  dying  man's 
eye  at  sunset ! 

A  lady,  of  whom  we  intend  shortly  to  speak,  has 
given  this  little  lake  the  name  of  the  "  Stockbridge 
Bowl."  It  is  the  largest  of  the  three  lakes  near  our 
southern  border,  and  is  a  gem  we  take  no  little  pride 
in  showing  to  the  stranger.  You  must  get  a  view  of  it 
from  the  south-eastern  shore,  that  the  dark  shade  of 


THE    PEOPLE.  95 


the  elms  upon  its  northern  and  western  sides  may 
throw  into  higher  effect  the  magnificent  sweep  of  its 
margin.  Go  and  listen  to  the  music  of  the  ripples  on 
its  pebbly  beach,  when  a  morning  breeze  ruffles  its 
surface ;  go  and  catch  a  "  noontide  dream  "  from  their 
fainter  murmur  at  mid-day ;  go  and  watch  the  shadows 
of  the  mountains  darken  and  lengthen,  and  melt  in  its 
molten  crystal.  "When  your  ears  are  wearied  with  the 
coarse  din  of  business  thoroughfares,  and  your  eyes 
aching  with  the  glare  of  brick  walls,  many  will  be  the 
times  that  you  will  long  for  another  draught  of  beauty 
from  the  Stockbridge  Bowl. 

It  becomes  us  to  observe  all  circumspection  in  speak- 
ing of  the  personal  characteristics  of  those  among  whom 
our  book  will  doubtless  find  its  way ;  but  we  cannot 
forbear  trespassing  on  the  privacy  of  the  people  of 
Lenox  sufficient  to  pay  what  we  deem  a  just  tribute  to 
their  mental  and  moral  qualities.  Leaving  out  —  as 
we  are  always  bound  to  do  —  the  few  who  tower  above, 
and  the  few  who  crouch  below  the  main  mass,  we  never 
knew  a  people  who  had,  to  a  greater  degree,  the  rare, 
happy  faculty  of  holding  fast  the  "  golden  mean." 
Elevated  by  education  and  refinement  far  above  the 
rusticity  so  characteristic  of  too  much  of  our  New-Eng- 
land yeomanry,  yet  they  do  not  aspire  to  the  pomp  of 
gay  life,  or  the  pageantry  of  fashion.  Not  anxious  for 
the  excitements  of  intense  exertion,  as  indeed  they  are 
remote  from  the  great  centres  of  commercial  and  polit- 
ical agitation,  they  will  win  your  admiration  more  by 
their  intelligence,  their  fidelity,  and  their  affection,  than 
by  the  cloud  of  dust  they  raise  on  the  arena  of  the 
world's  strife.     While  you  will  find  in  them  an  unaf- 


90  TAGnCONIC. 


fccted  appreciation  and  a  warm  love  for  tlie  beauties  of 
their  hills,  and  lakes,  and  skies,  each  one  is  inclined  to 
prefer  his  own  fireside  to  all  else ;  and  at  their  firesides 
you  must  meet  them,  if  you  would  know  them  as  they 
really  are.  We  have  often  thought,  perhaps  not  justly, 
but  certainly  with  great  admiration  for  their  philosophy, 
that  if  all  obstacles  to  the  realization  of  their  ideal  of 
life  were  removed,  it  would  be  one  — 

"  Whose  even  thread  the  Fates  spin  round  and  full, 
Out  of  their  choicest  and  their  whitest  wool." 


CHAPTER  XI.* 

LENOX  AS  A  JUNGLE  FOR  LITERARY  LIONS. 

The  rural  beauty  of  its  locality,  and  the  unobtrusive 
deference  universally  paid  to  real  worth,  by  its  inhabi- 
tants, have  attracted  within  the  precincts  of  Lenox 
many  persons  of  literary  eminence.  This  fact  has  long 
associated  its  name  with  that  kind  of  celebrity,  which, 
through  an  affection  for  genius  itself,  is  always  accorded 
to  its  local  habitation.  No  ordinary  interest  invests  the 
spot  where  the  private  life  of  a  distinguished  person  is 
passed ;  and,  partly  because  persons  of  genius  are  very 
generally  characterized  by  eccentricities,  and  partly 
because  every  thing  connected  with  those  we  love  has 
a  peculiar  claim  upon  our  regard,  there  is  nothing  that 
we  seize  with  more  avidity  than  details  of  their  per- 
sonelle  —  their  daily  walk  and  conversation  —  the  way 
in  which  they  demean  themselves,  when  they  have  laid 
aside  the  buskin,  or  dismounted  from  the  Pegasus  of 
their  coursings,  and  become  common  men  and  women 
—  fellow  mortals.  Grateful  as  are  the  tones  of  their 
voices,  when  addressing  us  as  "  Gentle  Header,"  it  is 
with  a  far  more  home-felt  delight  that  we  hear  them, 

*  For  this  and  the  preceding  Chapter,  I  am  indebted  to  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Buckham,  of  Lenox. 

8* 


98  TAGIICONIC. 


when  companions  of  their  walks,  or  fellow  visitants  of 
their  favorite  haunts,  even  in  imagination. 

In  attempting  to  play  the  cicerone  for  you,  in  these 
trippings,  we  only  wish  tliat  while  we  observe  the  limits 
of  propriety  and  courtesy,  in  making  such  disclosures, 
we  could  bring  materials  for  your  entertainment  at  all 
commensurate  with  the  distinguished  merit  of  the  per- 
sons to  whom  we  shall  introduce  you. 

And  first,  of  Miss  Sedgwick.  At  the  bare  men- 
tion of  her  name,  we  seem  to  see  a  whole  troup  of 
sunny-faced  children  gathering  close  around  us  —  for 
while  hers  is  a  name  which  men  of  the  sturdiest  intel- 
lects have  long  associated  with  whatever  is  graceful  in 
literature,  we  know  of  none  more  adapted  to  beguile 
"  young  children  from  play,  and  the  old  from  the  chim- 
ney corner."  Yet  we  cannot  speak  of  Miss  Sedgwick 
as  we  would,  for  we  venture  to  say  that  the  retirement 
of  her  private  life  would  reveal  more  to  admire  the 
more  it  was  unfolded ;  we  cannot  even  speak  freely  of 
the  cordiality  of  her  manners,  the  charms  of  her  con- 
versation, or  the  winning  grace  of  her  whole  life  ;  for 
if  we  knew  aught  of  these  things  beyond  others,  it 
•could  only  have  been  from  her  own  confiding  courtesy. 
"We  are  therefore  reluctantly  compelled  to  regard  her 
in  a  position  which  she  shares  with  many  others,  and 
to  place  the  great,  in  her  character,  more  prominently 
before  the  eye  than  the  good. 

The  first  part  of  Miss  Sedgwick's  literary  career 
was  spent  in  Stockbridge,  the  place  of  her  birth.  Many 
of  the  beautiful  descriptions  of  scenery  to  be  met  with 
throughout  her  writings,  are  transcripts  of  impressions 
made  upon  her  mind  by  the  scenery  among  which  her 


MISS    SEDGWICK.  99 


youthful  imagination  was  nurtured,  in  the  lovely  valley 
of  the  Housatonic.  There  is  no  trait  in  her  mental 
constitution  which  gives  more  grace  to  all  the  goings 
forth  of  her  life  —  intellectual  and  social  —  than  its 
inborn  affinity  for  natural  beauty.  She  has  done  much 
to  induce  a  livelier  sympathy  with  the  beautiful  in  the 
minds  of  all,  but  more  especially  in  the  humbler  classes, 
who  have  been  supposed  to  be  almost,  of  necessity,  out 
of  the  reach  of  its  refining  influence.  She  has  given 
names,  and  by  her  descriptions,  attractiveness,  to  many 
of  the  most  admired  features  of  Berkshire  scenery ; 
and  our  horticultural  exhibitions  are  always  graced  by 
a  bouquet  of  flowers  reared  by  her  own  hand. 

Neither  in  her  intellect  nor  her  feelings  has  Miss 
Sedgwick  been  trammelled  by  any  of  the  straight-laced 
notions  of  a  school.  The  simplicity  of  nature  has  never 
been  trained  by  art  to  rigidity ;  nor  have  the  spon- 
taneous promptings  of  intelligence  and  good-will  been 
curbed  into  too  decent  a  conformity  with  conventional 
models.  Her  views  on  all  subjects  embracing  human 
relations,  are  uncommonly  liberal  and  tolerant,  and  are 
only  ecpialled  in  breadth  by  her  universal  sympathy 
with  the  true  and  the  good,  wherever  found.  If  the 
mode  in  which  she  ridiculed  the  extravagances  into 
which  religious  doctrines,  held  sacred  by  so  large  a 
share  of  her  countrymen,  had  been  suffered  to  run,  and 
which  got  for  the  "  New-England  Tale  "  the  reputation 
of  being  a  covert  attack  against  the  doctrines  them- 
selves, seems  to  form  an  exception,  —  we  can  only  say 
that  it  must  be  an  exception,  for  it  certainly  has  no 
parallel  in  her  writings,  and  no  sanction  in  her  pri- 
vate character.     Whilst  we  must  acknowledge  that  it 


100  TAGIICONIC. 


is  a  most  perilous  undertaking  to  ridicule  religious  ex- 
cesses,—  and  whilst  we  must  in  candor  say  that  we 
think  Miss  Sedgwick  has  erred  upon  the  more  dangerous 
side,  yet  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  fact  that 
the  Tale  was  commenced  as  a  religious  tract,  with  a 
sincere  desire  to  open  men's  eyes  to  matters  which 
may  have  needed  correction,  and  that,  after  it  had 
grown  into  a  hook  under  the  author's  hands,  she  enter- 
tained no  idea  of  publishing  it,  until  almost  compelled 
by  her  friends,  we  cannot  think  that  it  ought  to 
impair  the  validity  of  our  assertion,  drawn  from  her 
later  writings,  and  the  impression  of  her  private  life, 
that  she  has  a  cordial  love  for  all  that  is  lovely,  and  a 
ready  sympathy  for  all  that  is  worthy  of  it.  Though 
strongly  American  in  her  attachments,  she  could  yet 
see  and  acknowledge  wherein  we  are  behind  our  broth- 
ers of  the  Old  "World ;  her  conviction  of  the  absurdity 
of  our  eternal  self-glorification  as  a  country,  she  re- 
corded on  the  title-page  of  her  "  Letters  from  Abroad," 
in  a  motto  which  we  think  she  might  adopt  in  her  opin- 
ions of  other  things  with  ecpial  truth :  "  Well,  John, 
I  think  Ave  must  acknowledge  that  God  Almighty  had 
a  hand  in  making  other  countries  besides  our  own." 

It  is  impossible  to  read  any  of  the  writings  of  Miss 
Sedgwick  without  being  impressed  with  the  idea  that 
she  wrote  not  for  applause,  nor  for  self  gratification, 
but  with  a  more  generous  aim,  and  with  a  higher  am- 
bition. We  know  of  no  American  author  who  has  done 
so  much  to  eradicate  false  notions  of  domestic  educa- 
tion, or  of  social  economy,  who  has  made  so  many  homes 
happy,  and  infused  such  sterling  principles  with  such 
gentle  tones  into  the  popular  philosophy.     Would  that 


IIAWTIIORXE.  101 


there  were  more  gentle  spirits  to  rise  and  follow  in  her 
steps  —  to  imbrue  their  own  minds  first  with  a  love  of 
the  truth,  the  broad,  sound,  fundamental  truth  which 
underlies  human  prosperity  in  its  widest  scope,  and 
then  devote  themselves  to  its  propagation,  with  the 
seriousness  and  humility  of  Miss  Sedgwick  !  If  they 
should  not  all  produce  works  which  for  their  literary 
merit,  but  more  for  their  sanctifying  influence,  future 
ages  will  not  let  die,  the  thought  of  the  poor  whom 
they  have  visited  and  comforted,  of  the  sad  homes 
they  have  cheered,  of  the  schools  they  have  fostered, 
and  the  ignorant  they  have  lured  to  a  love  of  knowl- 
edge, will,  as  we  are  sure  it  does,  to  gladden  the  serene 
maturity  of  Miss  Sedgwick's  life,  breathe  into  their 
reflections, — 

"  the  consciousness  of  living  in 
The  grateful  memory  of  the  good !" 

Of  Hawthorne  we  feel  at  liberty  to  speak  more 
freely.  The  example  which  he  himself  has  set  us,  in 
his  introduction  to  "The  Scarlet  Letter,"  is  of  itself 
sufficient  to  remove  all  scruples  that  we  might  other- 
wise have. 

On  the  northern  shore  of  the  Stockbridge  Bowl,  in 
a  spot  of  unrivalled  loveliness,  stands  a  small,  unin- 
viting red  house  with  green  window-blinds,  and  with 
one  single  pine  tree  before  it.  You  might  pass  it 
at  almost  any  time  of  the  day,  and  you  would  think 
it  vacant ;  the  doors  would  all  be  shut,  the  blinds 
all  closed,  and  that  single  pine  tree  would  look  as 
sullen  as  if  it  were  conscious  of  its  loneliness.  There 
would  be  no  path  to  the  gate,  and  no  knocker  on  the 


102  TAGHCONIC. 


door,  and  you  would  immediately  conclude  that  the  red 
house  of  the  two  gahles  was  shut  against  the  resort  of 
men,  —  and  you  would  not  be  far  from  right,  for  there 
lives  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

If,  however,  on  a  closer  inspection  you  observed  a 
wreath  of  smoke  curling  up  from  the  chimney  of  the 
house  of  the  two  gables,  and  had  curiosity  enough  to 
saunter  about  the  precincts,  in  hopes  of  seeing  signs  of 
life,  until  about  four  o'clock,  you  would  finally  hear  the 
door  creak,  and  there  would  stand  before  you  a  mid- 
dling-sized, thick-set  man,  with  a  large,  vigorous  face, 
and  lying  under  a  profusion  of  coarse,  black  hair,  a 
head  of  massive  development.  There  would  be  no 
particular  feature  in  his  countenance  of  especial  beauty, 
except  it  were  his  dark  and  intelligent  eye,  arched  by 
a  very  black  eye-brow,  —  yet  you  would  gather  from 
the  tout  ensemble  of  the  expression  that  it  betokened  an 
intensely-working  and  thorough-going  intellect.  "Were 
it  not  that  the  countenance  is  relieved  and  heightened 
by  the  vigor  and  intensity  of  mental  activity,  that 
beams  through  it,  you  would  think  there  was  something 
in  it  very  heavy  and  sombre.  If  you  ever  had  any 
hint  that  there  was  a  vein  of  rancor  and  acrimony  in 
his  character,  you  would  see  no  indications  of  it  in  his 
face,  unless  you  fell  to  imagining  what  expression  that 
black  eye  would  take,  and  that  heavy  eyebrow,  and  that 
firmly  drawn  mouth,  when  he  was  belaboring  the  Cus- 
tom House  officials,  or  spurring  his  bitterness  against 
some  hypocrite,  —  who  was  of  course  a  Calvinist  and  a 
Puritan.  But  while  you  were  making  these  observa- 
tions, your  hero  would  raise  his  eyes  from  the  ground 
long   enough   to   give   you   one  of  those   modest   but 


IIAWTHORNE.  103 

expressive  glances  -which  mark  the  man  of  seclusion  and 
reflection,  and  then  with  a  kind  of  swinging  gait  which 
would  assure  you  that  he  was  not  used  to  bustle  among 
the  crowds  of  business  or  fashion,  would  wend  his  way 
up  to  the  village  Post  Office. 

Mr.  Hawthorne,  even  for  a  man  of  letters,  leads  a 
remarkably  secluded  life.  He  has  a  few  literary  friends 
with  whom  he  cherishes  an  intimacy  congenial  to  a 
mind  of  such  cultivation  and  sensibility,  and  a  friend- 
ship which  does  honor  to  his  heart,  but  he  shows  no  dis- 
position to  mingle  largely  in  society.  This  aversion  to 
social  intercourse  has  been  remarkable  in  him  during 
his  literary  career,  and  even  far  back  into  his  youth,  if 
we  may  credit  the  accounts  of  his  acquaintances.  Not 
only  in  his  private  life,  but  all  through  his  writings, 
there  seems  to  breathe  an  unsympathising,  morbid 
spirit,  —  a  spirit  that  seems  to  take  a  satisfaction  in 
keeping  itself  aloof  from  those  who  are  guilty  of  the 
foibles  which  it  takes  a  still  greater  satisfaction  in  con- 
templating. This  spirit  he  could  never  have  inherited 
from  his  ancestors,  else  those  progenitors  of  his,  who  for 
so  many  generations  "  followed  the  sea,"  were  a  strange 
set  of  tars !  Perhaps  all  his  better  sympathies  were 
chilled  in  those  speculations  with  his  dreamy  brethren 
of  the  Brook  Farm  Community  ;  perhaps  he  and  Emer- 
son, enraptured  with  the  mystic  perfection  of  their  own 
fantasies,  abjured  all  communion  with  this  our  gross 
humanity ;  he  certainly  could  not  have  had  his  feelings 
frozen  into  bate  by  contact  with  the  genial  and  sympa- 
thizing intellect  of  Ellery  Channing,  or  at  the  warm 
hearth-stone  of  Longfellow. 

Yet,  after  all,  we  should  be  strangely  insensate  and 


104  TAGHCONIC. 


ungrateful,  if  we  were  disposed  to  grumble  at  what 
may  Ijc,  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Hawthorne,  but  the  concom- 
itant of  seclusion  and  literary  devotion,  or  what  at  the 
worst  is  so  admirably  wrought  into  piquancy  in  his 
writings.  The  world,  and  we  with  them,  would  be 
sorry  were  it  far  otherwise,  and  we  are  perfectly  indif- 
ferent as  to  which  of  the  two  gables  of  his  red  house  he 
shuts  himself  in,  if  he  will  but  open  the  door  occasion- 
ally, and  send  forth  such  volumes  as  he  has  of  late  been 
giving  to  the  public.  But  we  are  not  so  selfish  that  we 
cannot  see,  or  that  we  would  not  like  to  tell  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne, that  our  gain  is  his  loss,  in  one  respect  at  least. 
"We  would  tell  him  that  the  church  upon  our  hill  —  the 
church,  too,  whose  walls  echoed  the  almost  dying  tones 
of  his  beloved  Channing,  in  his  last  public  address  —  is 
not  the  sanctuary  of  asceticism  of  any  kind,  and  the 
eloquent  sincerity  of  a  believing  Calvinist  has  at- 
tractions even  for  those  who  have  no  sympathy  with 
his  piety ;  but  the  shadow  of  the  occupant  of  the 
house  of  the  two  gables  seldom,  if  ever,  darkens  a 
church  door.  Doubtless  the  remains  of  the  Puri- 
tan sermons  which  moaned  through  the  shattered  tim- 
bers, and  pealed  through  the  tree  tops  of  the  old  manse 
at  Concord,  sufficed  Mr.  Hawthorne  for  the  remainder 
of  his  life,  or  else  disgusted  him  with  the  idea  of  any- 
thing which  by  any  possibility  could  savor  of  Puritan 
homiletics. 

Mr.  Hawthorne  was  born  and  spent  the  early  part  of 
his  life  in  Salem,  that  old  Puritan  city,  where  the 
witches  were  persecuted  with  such  relentless  fury ;  —  a 
city  which  still,  in  spite  of  the  cheerfulness  of  its 
modern  improvements,  cannot  be  dissociated  from  that 


HAWTIIOUXE.  105 


gloom  which  invested  it  of  old,  as  if  the  "  Gallows 
Hill,"  which  overlooks  it,  would  never  withdraw  its 
shadow.  Here,  doubtless,  he  imbibed  that  fierce  hatred 
for  many  traits  of  the  Puritan  character,  which  per- 
vade and  almost  embitter  his  writings.  There  is  always 
looming  up  in  the  background  of  his  picture  —  ill  pro- 
tected by  the  thin  tissue  of  the  tale,  or  rather  thrown 
into  bolder  relief  by  its  reflected  light  —  some  gaunt 
old  snuffler,  bigoted  in  his  zeal,  hypocritical  in  his  pro- 
fessions, who,  notwithstanding  that  he  is  at  heart  the 
very  chief  of  sinners  and  almost  a  rival  for  the  chief 
of  demons,  lays  all  the  claims  to  sanctity  to  be  found  in 
the  lankest  possible  hair,  the  most  fervid  quotation  of 
Scripture  language,  in  a  voice  not  wanting  the  due 
nasal  intonations,  —  in  every  respect  the  devoutest  of 
men,  save  in  his  heart,  where  rankle  the  worst  propen- 
sities and  the  most  damnable  passions.  With  a  sort  of 
bitter  pleasure,  and  regardless  of  the  rules  of  warfare, 
Mr.  Hawthorne  first  stealthily  strips  him  of  his  coat  of 
mail,  and  then  against  his  exposed  enemy  levels  a 
storm  of  poisoned  shafts,  barbed  with  all  the  skill  that 
a  refined  malice  can  invent,  that  he  may  have  the  fierce 
satisfaction  of  glorifying  in  his  fall.  We  can  hardly 
forgive  Mr.  Hawthorne  this  assault  on  the  occasional 
weaknesses  of  here  and  there  one  of  those  whom,  not- 
withstanding, a  long  line  of  children  glory  in  claiming 
as  their  ancestry.  Bating  this  one  characteristic, 
which,  though  it  may  add  to  the  piquancy  of  his  wri- 
tings, certainly  detracts  from  their  merit.  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne is  one  of  the  purest,  most  forcible,  as  well  as 
most  graceful,  of  living  English  prose  writers.  His 
style  is  splendidly  constructed,  his  language  racy  and 
9 


10G  TAGHCONIC. 


idiomatic,  while  the  magnificent  web  of  his  imagery  — 
sometimes  reflecting  the  glance  of  a  metaphor,  and 
sometimes  interweaving  a  long  array  of  analogies  into 
a  beautiful  allegory,  is  enchanting  beyond  description. 

Mr.  Hawthorne's  last  published  book,  "  A  Wonder 
Book,  for  Boys  and  Girls,"  contains  a  number  of  accu- 
rate descriptions  of  our  Lenox  scenery.  lie  fitly  styles 
himself  "  the  silent  man  in  the  red  house."  In  this 
book  he  has  worked  up  six  of  the  classical  myths  into 
forms  adapted  to  the  capacities  and  suited  to  the  im- 
provement of  the  young,  —  and  we  think  with  remark- 
able success.  That  he  who  has  furnished  strong  and 
muscular  food  for  staid  men,  can  thus  cater  to  the  milk 
loving  palates  of  children,  is  no  meagre  evidence  of  a 
versatile  mind. 

"  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  and  the  "  House  of  the  Seven 
Gables,"  have  been  received  with  great  favor  in  Eng- 
land, and  their  author  pronounced  one  of  the  master 
magicians  of  the  age,  in  his  province.  And  notwith- 
standing the  minor  charges  which  we  felt  bound  in  jus- 
tice to  lay  at  the  door  of  "  the  silent  man  in  the  red 
house  "  of  the  two  gables,  we  would  have  it  understood 
that  we  cherish  the  thought  of  his  abode  among  us 
with  a  complacency  commensurate  with  the  splendor  of 
his  abilities  and  his  renown. 

Although  Mrs.  Kemble  is  temporarily  absent,  we 
still  reckon  her  among  our  honored  residents.  Indeed, 
even  if  her  return  was  not  anticipated  at  no  very 
distant  period,  there  are  few  who  would  be  willing  to 
forget  the  partiality  which  a  lady  of  such  distinguished 
reputation   and   undisputed   taste   has    shown    to   the 


FANNY    KEMBLE.  107 


scenery  and  other  attractions  of  Lenox.  She  is  remem- 
bered as  a  marked  and  generous  woman  ;  there  is  not 
a  peasant  in  the  region  —  however  much  he  may  have 
been  startled  at  her  individualities  —  who  has  not  some 
tale  to  tell  of  her  munificence.  It  was  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  many  of  the  graver  people  would  look  with 
much  complacency  on  the  port  and  demeanor  of  so 
singularly  spirited  a  lady,  much  less  on  her  man-like 
propensities  to  driving,  hunting,  and  fishing,  and  less 
than  all  on  her  man-like  attire,  while  engaged  in  them. 
There  are  many  who  did  not  know  her,  save  as  a  splen- 
did, imperious,  passionate  woman ;  they  could  not  love 
her  who  knew  not  also  how  ardent  and  generous  a 
nature  was  hers.  That  she  had  extraordinary  genius, 
an  inflexible  and  irresistible  will,  and  a  consummate 
address,  every  one,  who  ever  saw  her,  acknowledged  ; 
that  she  had  the  tender  sympathies  of  a  noble  nature, 
the  poor  by  whose  bedsides  she  watched,  and  to  whom 
she  read  the  Bible  in  their  sickness,  will  convince  you, 
with  many  a  tearful  tale ;  but  those  only  avIio  knew 
her  as  a  friend,  can  tell  the  full  strength  of  her  claim 
upon  their  admiration  and  their  love. 

But  it  were  both  ungrateful  and  unjust  to  close  these 
sketches  of  those  whose  presence  among  us  has  clone 
honor  to  our  village,  without  paying  a  tribute  to  one 
who  devoted  his  conspicuous  talents,  and  his  long  and 
honored  life,  to  its  spiritual  upbuilding.  It  very  rarely 
falls  to  the  lot  of  any  community  to  be  under  the 
guardianship  of  so  large-souled  and  devoted  a  man  as 
Dr.  Shepard.  Willi  abilities  which  gave  him  a  tow- 
ering eminence  among  his  brethren,  united  with  great 


108  TAGIICONIC 


physical  and  personal  endowments,  his  power  as  an 
eloquent  speaker,  no  less  than  a  vehement  proclaimer 
of  the  truth  of  God,  stood  confessed  in  the  admiration 
of  two  generations  of  men  ;  while  his  genial  piety  and 
the  strong  flow  of  his  sympathetic  ardor,  have  gained 
for  him  even  more,  to  love  him  and  to  venerate  his 
memory,  than  those  who  admired  the  breadth  of  his 
intellectual  view,  and  the  fervor  and  power  of  his  elo- 
quence. After  having  long  been  regarded  as  a  ven- 
erable "  Father  in  God,"  he  closed  his  career  of  more 
than  half  a  century  of  pastoral  labor  in  Lenox,  in 
January,  1846. 

"  >"one  name  him  but  to  praise." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

LAKE    ONOTA AXD    ITS    WHITE    DEER. 

I  said,  the  other  day,  that  Pontoosuc  was  not  quite 
my  favorite,  among  our  mountain  lakes.  Onota  is. 
This  beautiful  sheet  of  water  lies  in  an  elevated  valley, 
some  two  miles  west  of  our  Old  Elm,  whence  our 
matter-of-fact  people  almost  universally  call  it  the 
"  West  Pond."  You  reach  it  by  a  few  steps  from  the 
high  road,  upon  the  north  or  south,  but  it  is  almost  ere- 
metically  concealed  from  the  passenger  upon  it.  If 
one  is  a  good  walker,  the  better  approach  is  across  the 
fields,  between  the  two.  From  almost  any  part  of  the 
main  street  of  our  village,  you  can  see  upon  an  emi- 
nence in  the  west  two  twin  elms,  forming  a  perfect 
gothic  arch,  —  "  St.  Mary's  Arch  "  they  call  it.  Keep- 
ing your  eye  upon  this  pretty  landmark,  follow  such 
footpath  as  you  can  find ;  and  when  you  reach  it,  a  few 
steps  farther  will  bring  you  to  the  green  and  mossy 
woods  upon  the  eastern  borders  of  Onota. 

Of  all  our  lovely  groves,  none  are  more  perfect  than 
this.  Few  have  so  hermit-like  a  solitude;  yet  none 
are  so  far  removed  from  a  desolate  loneliness.  These 
shades  are  sometimes  very  solemn,  but  never  gloomy ; 
one  cannot  feel  very  sad  in  them,  but  with  a  merry 
company  might  be  very  gay. 
9* 


110  TAGIICONIC. 


Around  these  shores  were  some  of  the  earliest  settle- 
ments ;  and  hefore  the  intrusion  of  the  white  man,  they 
were  the  favorite  haunt  of  the  Indian.  A  gentleman 
tells  me  that  in  digging  into  a  bed  of  peat  and  marl, 
upo'n  his  farm  on  the  west  of  the  lake,  he  has  found,  at 
great  depth,  stakes  pointed  artificially,  —  evidently  the 
remains  of  wigwams  built  ages  ago,  when,  perhaps,  the 
marl  bed  was  a  lakelet  as  crystal  clear  as  Onota.  Re- 
mains of  the  rude  arts  of  the  later  Indians  used  to  be 
found  in  the  neighboring  fields ;  but  now  they  are 
rarely,  if  ever,  turned  up  by  the  plough. 

"Wandering  through  the  grove  we  come  to  the  north- 
ern extremity  of  the  lake,  whence  the  view  to  the 
south  is  very  wild  and  imposing ;  I  believe  it  is  the 
fashion  for  artists  and  connoisseurs  to  consider  this  the 
best  point  of  view  to  be  had  of  the  lake,  —  indeed  as 
the  best  of  its  kind  any  where  to  be  found.  The  pecu- 
liar formation  of  the  lake  is  certainly  here  displayed 
to  the  best  advantage,  and  is  very  curious.  At  about 
one  quarter  of  its  length  from  its  northern  end,  it  is 
divided  by  a  narrow  isthmus;  the  northern  portion  of 
the  lake  being  the  work  of  those  skillful  engineers,  the 
beavers,  —  who  formed  it  by  building  a  dam  across  a 
small  stream  which  still  runs  through  it,  overflowing 
their  embankment  in  sufficient  quantities  to  turn  a  mill 
wheel  at  some  distance  below.  The  main  or  southern 
lake  is  fed  by  springs. 

The  fringed  gentian,  the  cardinal  and  other  gor- 
geous wild  flowers,  grow  in  profusion  at  the  north 
of  the  lake.  The  more  pleasant  resort,  however,  is 
upon  the  south,  —  where,  of  a  dreamy  Summer  after- 
noon  one   can   recline   in   luxurious    reveries,   as   he 


THE    WHITE    DEER.  Ill 

watches  the  image  of  the  mountains,  sharply  reflected 
in  the  clear  waters ;  sometimes  in  the  green  leafiness  of 
June,  sometimes  in  the  melancholy  gorgeousness  of 
Autumn,  or,  better  still,  when  the  haze  of  the  Indian 
Summer  invests  them  with  hues  of  pearly  delicacy 
and  richness. 

Perhaps,  while  you  look,  a  broad  winged  eagle  will 
appear  above  you,  soaring  and  sweeping  in  the  silent 
sky  till  it  vanishes  into  the  heavens  ;  or  a  blue  king- 
fisher will  perch  awhile  upon  yonder  blasted  bough, 
and  then  suddenly  darting  into  the  water  bear  away  its 
writhing  prey  to  its  hidden  haunt.  Other  gentler  birds 
will  sit  a-tilt  on  the  lithe  green  branches  —  and,  if  it  be 
in  early  Summer,  serenade  your  slumberous  ear. 

Near  by,  the  cattle  will  stand  in  groups  on  a  pleasant 
point  of  land  which  runs  out  into  the  lake,  and  which 
they  seem  to  love  better  than  other  spots.  It  Avas  this 
point  which  the  Indians  called  Onota,  whence  the 
earlier  settlers  extended  the  name  to  the  whole  lake. 
There  are  a  couple  of  legends  about  this  Onota,  per- 
haps worth  the  telling.  The  first  is  well  authenticated, 
and  the  other  not  improbable,  as  legends  go. 

®l)e  Cegcnb  of  tlje  tDljite  Wax. 

There  is  hardly  a  country  where  a  deer  ever  trod  in 
which  (here  does  not  linger  some  legend  of  one  or  more 
of  these  graceful  animals,  either  wholly  or  in  part  of  a 
supernatural  whiteness.  It  is  a  fancy  which  seems  to 
spring  spontaneously  in  the  rich  soil  of  a  woodman's 
imagination.  The  "White  Doe  of  Rylston,"  and  Bry- 
ant's  "  White-footed  Deer,"   Avill  occur  to  every  one, 


112  TAGHCONIC. 


as  instances  of  the  use  to  which  these  traditions  have 
been  put  in  poetry.  Traditions  with  very  similar  inci- 
dents and  catastrophies  are  said  to  exist  in  almost  every 
tribe  of  North  American  Indians,  and  among  others, 
those  of  the  Housatonic  valley. 

A  gentleman  tells  me  that  in  the  "old  witch  times," 
there  were  no  firmer  believers  in  supeimaturalisms  than 
the  people  who  lived  about  Onota ;  one  of  whom  was 
his  own  grandfather.  This  worthy  old  gentleman  — 
dead  long  since,  but  then  a  middle-aged  man  —  coming 
in  from  an  unsuccessful  hunt,  saw  a  white  deer  stooping 
down  to  drink,  at  Point  Onota.  Instantly  his  rifle 
was  at  his  shoulder,  but,  before  he  could  pull  the  trig- 
ger, his  dog  howled  and  the  startled  deer  disappeared. 

The  marvellous  story  of  the  White  Deer  immediately 
occurred  to  him,  and  it  entered  into  his  head  that  his 
dog  was  bewitched,  or  rather  that  an  old  hag  who 
lived  in  the  neighboring  woods  had  assumed  the  shape 
of  the  dog  —  which,  among  other  devilish  freaks,  she  had 
the  dangerous  reputation  of  being  able  to  do.  With 
never  a  doubt,  therefore,  that  he  was  all  the  while  bela- 
boring the  old  witch,  our  disappointed  hunter  belabored 
his  poor  beast  until  the  woods  howled  again.  This  done, 
he  posted  away  to  the  cabin  of  the  old  crone  and  de- 
manded that  she  should  show  him  her  back,  on  which 
he  did  not  doubt  he  should  find  the  marks  of  the  blows 
he  had  inflicted  upon  his  miserable  hound.  Of  course 
the  old  lady  was  in  a  tempest  of  wrath  when  she  learned 
the  errand  of  her  visitor ;  and  it  is  believed  my  friend's 
grandfather  made  a  retreat  more  discreet  than  valiant, 
under  a  shower  of  blows  from  that  notorious  article  of 
household    furniture  which  was  supposed  to  serve  its 


THE    WHITE    DEER.  113 

mistress  the  double  purpose  of  a  broom  by  day  and  an 
aerial  steed  by  night,  and  which  now  answered  another 
very  excellent  turn. 

Another  gentleman,  to  whom  I  mentioned  this  anec- 
dote, tells  me  an  aboriginal  legend  of  this  same  White 
Deer. 

"  Long  before  the  Englishmen  set  foot  in  the  Housa- 
tonic  valley,"  he  said,  "  the  Indians  used  to  notice  a 
deer,  of  complete  and  spotless  white,  which  came 
often,  in  the  Summer  and  Autumn  months,  to  drink  at 
Onota.  Against  this  gentle  creature  no  red  man's  ar- 
row was  ever  pointed  ;  for,  in  their  simple  faith,  they 
believed  that  with  her  light  and  airy  step  she  brought 
good  fortune  to  the  dwellers  in  the  valley.  '  So  long, 
the  prophecy  ran,  '  So  long  as  the  snow  white  doe 
comes  to  drink  at  Onota,  so  long  famine  shall  not  blight 
the  Indian's  harvest,  nor  pestilence  come  nigh  his  lodge, 
nor  foemen  lay  waste  his  country.'  In  the  graceful 
animal  the  tribe  recognized  and  loved  their  good  genius. 
He  among  them  who  dared  to  harm  her  would  have 
met  swift  punishment  as  a  sacriligious  wretch  and 
traitor." 

Thus  protected  by  the  love  of  her  simple  friends, 
year  after  year,  soon  as  the  white  blossoms  clothed  the 
cherry,  the  sacred  deer  came  to  drink  at  her  chosen 
fountain ;  bringing  good  omens  to  all,  and  especially  to 
the  maiden  who  first  espied  her  glittering  brightly  among 
the  foliage.  Finally  she  brought  with  her  a  fawn,  if  pos- 
sible, of  more  faultless  purity  and  grace  than  herself; 
and  that  year  more  than  the  usual  plenty  and  happiness 
reigned  round  the  lake.  Not  long  after  this,  the  first 
French  and  Indian  war  broke  out,  and  a  young  French 


114  TAGHCONIC. 


officer  —  Montalbcrt  by  name  —  was  sent  to  incite  tbe 
Housatonic  Indians  to  join  in  the  league  against  the 
English  Colonies. 

In  his  sacred  character  as  an  ambassador  he  was 
welcomed  to  their  lodges,  had  a  seat  at  their  council 
fire,  and  listened  eagerly  to  their  wild  and  marvellous 
tales.  Among  others  he  heard  the  story  of  the  White 
Deer ;  and  however  incredulous  of  her  sanctity,  suffi- 
ciently admired  the  descriptions  of  her  beauty.  Among 
those  reckless  and  ambitious  adventurers  who  set  up 
the  standard  of  France  in  Canada,  it  was  a  passion  to 
carry  away  some  wonderful  trophy  of  the  forest  do- 
main, to  lay  at  the  feet  of  their  sovereign.  Even  the 
persons  of  the  savages  had  thus  been  presented  at  the 
Court  of  Versailles,  and  royal  favor  had  not  been  nig- 
gard in  rewarding  the  donors  of  the  more  unique  and 
costly  trophies  of  barbaric  splendor. 

It  was  for  such  reasons  that  an  uncontrollable  desire 
to  possess  the  skin  of  the  White  Deer  took  possession 
of  Montalbert.  He  already  enjoyed,  in  imagination, 
the  reward  which  could  not  fail  him  who  brought  so 
rare  and  beautiful  a  peltry  to  the  splendid  Louis. 

Not  fully  aware  of  the  veneration  which  the  Deer 
received  from  the  natives,  he  first  offered  liberal  rewards 
to  the  hunter  who  should  bring  to  him  the  coveted 
spoil.  For  half  the  proffered  price  the  chiefs  would, 
perhaps,  have  alienated  their  fairest  hunting-grounds ; 
but  the  proposition  to  destroy  their  sacred  Deer  was 
received  with  utter  horror  and  indignation.  It  was 
gently  hinted  to  Montalbert  that  a  repetition  of  the 
offer  might  ensure  him  the  fate  he  designed  for  the 
Deer. 


THE    WniTE    DEER.  115 

But  the  Frenchman  was  not  of  a  nature  to  be  so 
baffled.  He  had  noticed  that  one  of  the  native  war- 
riors —  Wondo,  by  name  —  was  already  debased  by 
the  use  of  the  white  man's  fire-water,  of  which  Mont  al- 
bert possessed  a  large  supply.  Concealing  his  purposes 
for  a  time,  the  adventurer  sought  out  this  Wondo,  and 
shortly  contrived  to  foment  the  poor  fellow's  appetite  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  became  the  absolute  slave  of  who- 
ever had  it  in  his  power  to  minister  to  his  desires. 

When  the  hunter  was  thought  to  be  sufficiently  be- 
sotted, Montalbert  ventured  to  propose  to  him  a  plan  to 
secure  the  skin  of  the  White  Deer.  Depraved  as  he 
had  become,  Wondo  at  first  recoiled  from  the  thought, 
but  appetite  at  length  prevailed  and  he  yielded  to  the 
tempter. 

Years  of  unmolested  security  had  rendered  the  Deer 
so  confident  in  the  friendship  of  man  that  when  at  last 
treachery  came,  she  proved  an  easy  victim.  Before 
conscience  could  awaken  in  the  sacrilegious  hunter,  the 
gentle  animal  was  taken  and  slain,  and  the  illgotten  fur 
was  in  the  possession  of  the  white  man. 

No  sooner  had  Montalbert  secured  his  prize  than, 
concealing  it  in  his  baggage,  he  set  out  for  Montreal ; 
but  the  legend  hints  that  he  never  reached  the  French 
border,  and  the  beautiful  skin  of  the  Indians'  sacred 
Deer  never  added  to  the  splendors  of  French  royalty. 

Among  the  natives,  the  impious  slaughter  was  not 
suspected  until  the  fire-water  of  the  slayer  was  ex- 
pended, and  a  returning  consciousness  compelled  him 
to  confess  his  deed  of  horror,  and  to  meet  the  speedy 
vengeance  which  atoned  for  it. 

Long  and  earnest  were  the  supplications  which  the 


11C  TAOHCOXIC. 


frightened  natives  sent  up  to  the  Great  Spirit,  that  He 
would  avert  from  the  trihe  the  punishment  due  to  such 
a  crime ;  but  the  prosperity  of  the  tribe  never  again 
was  what  it  had  been,  and  its  numbers  slowly  wasted 
away. 

Yet  it  is  said  that  when  they  had  become  very  few 
and  feeble,  a  white  deer  again  came  to  drink  at  Onota, 
and  that  same  year  the  Missionary,  Sergeant,  first  pro- 
claimed the  truths  of  the  christian  gospel  among  these 
hills,  and  the  red  Indian  learned  to  know  the  white 
man's  God. 

There  are  many  hints  of  dim  legends  like  these  about 
Onota,  —  both  of  the  early  settlers  and  their  predeces- 
sors. One,  who  at  this  day  looks  upon  its  beautiful 
scenery  and  breathes  its  pure  air,  can  well  feel  why  life 
used  to  cluster  thickly  around  its  shores. 

There  is  one  little  corner  of  the  lake  —  an  open  bay 
overhung  by  dark  woods  and  covered  with  lilies,  that 
reminded  me  one  evening,  when  white  mists  were  gath- 
ering over  it,  of  a  little  German  ballad.  Perhaps  the 
connection  is  of  the  slightest,  but  it  will  warrant  me 
in  giving  a  translation  of  what,  in  the  original,  seemed 
to  me  beautiful.  The  Mummelsee  is  a  small,  gloomy 
lake  in  the  Black  Forest,  near  Baden-Baden. 

Iftmnmelsee:  a  ballctb  from  tl)e  (£>irman. 

Tho'  Mummel's  lake  is  lone  and  drear, 

Yet  there  the  lilies  bright  are  blooming, 
And,  bending  low,  their  kiss  they  yield, 

The  wanton  breeze  of  morn  perfuming. 
But  when  the  night  on  earth  comes  down, 
And  the  white  moon  puts  on  her  crown, 
From  the  dark  wave  each  flower  uprises, 
Like  youthful  maids  in  festal  guises. 


MUMMELSEE.  117 


The  winds  that  whistle  through  the  grove 
Give  fitting  music  for  their  dances, 

While  on  the  shore  each  Lily-maid 
Through  mazy  circles  deftly  glances. 

Their  graceful  forms,  how  slight,  how  frail ! 

How  white  their  robes,  their  cheeks  how  pale ! 

Till  the  warm  dance  at  length  discloses, 

Among  the  lilies,  blended  roses ! 

Now  howls  the  wind,  now  rolls  the  storm, 

Through  gloomy  forests  fiercely  sweeping; 
The  moon  in  clouds  has  hid  her  form, 

And  murkier  shades  o'er  earth  arc  creeping. 
Still,  up  and  down  the  dance  goes  round 
To  the  tempest  tune,  on  the  rough,  wet  ground. 
While  the  foam  on  the  lake-wave  whiter  flashes, 
As  its  crests  on  the  shore  it  higher  dashes. 

An  arm  from  out  the  lake  is  raised, 

A  giant  hand  and  clench'd  outthrowing, 
A  dripping  head,  with  sedges  crowned, 
With  a  white  beard  long  and  flowing. 
Then  a  voice  is  heard,  with  a  thunder  tone 
That  echoes  afar  through  the  mountains  lone, 
"Back,  vagrant  Lilies,  to  your  native  waters, 
Back  to  your  homes,  unduteous  daughters ! " 

The  dance  is  stilled,  the  maids  grow  pale, 

'Tis  sad  to  hear  their  fitful  shrieking : 
"  Our  Father  calls  —  Ha !  morning  air ! 

Back,  then,  our  cheerless  waters  seeking !  "— 
The  silver  mists  from  out  the  valley  rise, 
And  morning  painteth  gay  the  eastern  skies ; 
Again  the  Lilies  to  the  winds  are  sighing, 
Their  pale,  meek  heads  upon  the  waters  lying. 


10 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

VISIT     TO     A     SHAKER     MEETING. 

The  name,  and  something  of  the  character,  of  the 
"  United  Society  called  Shakers,"  is  doubtless  familiar 
to  you.  Everybody  has  heard  of  their  saltatory  wor- 
ship —  an  absurd  mockery  of  cheerful  devotion  —  of 
their  doctrine  of  universal  celibacy,  of  the  perfection 
of  their  workmanship,  the  excellence  of  their  hus- 
bandry, and  the  wonderful  neatness  and  order  of  all 
that  pertains  to  them.  This,  however,  by  no  means 
comprises  a  complete,  or  the  most  valuable  view  of 
their  character.  Understand  them  rightly,  and  I  think 
you  will  find  this  secluded  body  of  strange  religionists 
one  of  the  most  instructive,  as  well  as  extraordinary 
social  phenomena,  which  the  world  presents.  There  is 
something  else  to  be  learned  among  them  than  careful 
husbandry,  or  thorough  workmanship — something  more 
worthy  of  observation  than  an  ungainly  garb,  or  yet 
more  ungainly  dance.  It  is  by  such  strange  distortions 
of  the  social  system  that  the  moralist  learns  much  of 
its  internal  nature,  —  as  the  geologist  determines  the 
internal  structure  of  the  earth  from  its  upturned  and 
distorted  strata. 

I  do  not,  however,  purpose  to  play  the  moralist,  but  to 
give  some  account  of  a  visit  to  the  Millennial  Church, 


OTJR   RIDE.  119 


at  New  Lebanon,  and  a  brief  sketeb  of  their  organiza- 
tion and  manner  of  life. 

Last  Sunday  I  overtasked  the  generosity  of  a  friend 
by  accepting  a  carriage  seat  to  visit  the  church  of  this 
strange  sect,  or  rather  this  unnatural  offshoot  of  Chris- 
tianity. It  was  one  of  those  mornings  we  keep  forever 
among  our  choice  memories.  Never  was  balmier  west 
wind  than  breathed  upon  us,  over  the  green  hills  of 
Taghconic ;  never  was  bluer  sky,  or  fleecier  clouds,  or 
more  heart  warming  sunshine  than  ours.  We  were 
not  now  in  pursuit  of  natural  beauty ;  but,  off  the  Berk- 
shire hills,  you  may  wander  over  many  a  league  of 
lovely  landscape,  and  find  none  so  lovely  as  will  greet 
you  at  every  step  upon  them.  "  Here  ! "  "  There ! " 
"  Yonder  ! "  we  were  continually  exclaiming,  as  one 
and  another  espied  some  exquisite  little  vista  opening 
up  the  valley ;  some  fine  old  tree  standing  out  in  relief 
from  the  wood;  or  some  clear  brooklet  meandering 
awhile  by  the  road  side  and  then  dashing  down  a  rocky 
bed,  to  hide  itself  in  the  ravine  below.  Now  we 
watched  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  passing,  like  dreams, 
over  the  breasts  of  the  sleeping  hills ;  and  now  the 
shimmering  sunlight,  as  it  glinted  down  through  the 
rich  foliage  with  as  mellow,  warm-colored  light  as  that 
which  gleams  through  old  cathedral  windows. 

One  of  our  party  —  a  daughter  of  the  West,  whom 
we  will  in  ink  christen  "  Hesperia  " —  had  always  some 
apt  quotation  to  illustrate  every  scene,  and  express 
every  sentiment ;  another  such  glowing  eloquence  of 
lip  and  eye  as  continually  rebuked  the  coldness  of  admi- 
ration which  matter-of-fact  people  would  have  called 
excessive,  if  not  insane.     It  was  just  such  a  merry, 


120  TAOnCONIC. 


impressible  party  as  one  should  desire  to  meet  in  pleas- 
ant lands. 

"We  soon  reached  the  village  of  the  Hancock  Shakers, 
•which  they  poetically  call  the  "  City  of  Peace."  It  is 
conspicuous,  with  its  huge  round  stone  barn,  —  the  best 
model,  it  is  said,  to  be  found  for  a  building  of  the  kind ; 
it  is  certainly  the  noblest  looking  agricultural  structure 
I  ever  saw.  The  meeting-house  at  this  place  was 
closed,  and  the  people  were  going  out  to  hold  a  "  moun- 
tain meeting,"  —  a  great  festival  in  Shakerdom,  of 
which  I  shall  have  more  to  say,  presently.  One  of  the 
brethren,  however,  politely  informed  us  that  we  should 
be  in  ample  time  for  the  services  at  New  Lebanon,  and 
at  the  same  time  gave  a  glance,  which  was  anything 
but  Platonic,  to  the  ladies. 

With  this  slight  glimpse  into  the  Shaker  heart,  we 
drove  on,  —  staying  a  moment,  however,  to  listen  to 
the  sound  of  monotonous  chanting  which  issued  from  a 
house  where  one  of  the  families  (a  family,  in  Shaker 
parlance,  is  a  collection  of  from  fifty  to  one  hundred 
persons,  living  in  one  house,  but  in  nowise  related) 
was  engaged  in  its  morning  devotions.  It  was  only  a 
doleful,  droning  hymn,  of  which  we  could  distinguish 
no  words,  —  doubtless  very  far  from  melodious  in  itself, 
but  like  other  such  sounds,  not  without  a  certain  melan- 
choly sweetness,  when  heard  at  a  distance,  in  the  still- 
ness of  a  Summer  Sabbath. 

Ascending  the  Taghconics,  when  we  reached  the 
"  summit " —  as  the  highest  point  of  each  road  is  here 
called  —  the  broad  valley  of  the  Hudson  burst  upon 
us,  as  if  by  the  withdrawal  of  a  curtain.  Before  us 
lay  outspread  its  countless  forms,  its  wooded  uplands, 


THE  WORLD'S  PEOPLE.  121 

and  the  towering  KaatskHls  blue  in  the  distance.  To 
some  of  us  the  scene  was  not  a  new  one,  nor  is  it  by 
any  means  the  finest  in  grandeur  or  variety  which  can 

be  had  of  this  splendid  valley.  We  saw  neither  Pali- 
sades nor  highland  shores  ;  the  river  itself,  with  its  mag- 
nificent border  of  cities  and  towns,  was  hid  from  view. 
But  I  know  not  when  I  have  been  filled  with  emotions 
of  such  sublimity,  as  when  looking  down  upon  that 
wide,  populous  harvest-laden  slope,  Avhite  with  the  corn 
which  was  to  give  strength  to  nations,  now  lying  there 
in  the  Sabbath's  rest,  while  the  grey  old  mountains 
stood  above,  clad  in  priestly  robes  of  mist,  as  if  ready 
to  bestow  their  patriarchal  blessing.  It  was  a  scene  to 
which  the  most  prosaic  heart  might  well  for  once  yield. 

Slowly  descending  the  western  slope  of  the  Tagh- 
conics,  we  soon  reached  the  Shaker  village  of  New 
Lebanon  —  the  capital  of  the  Shaker  world  —  the  rural 
Vatican  which  claims  a  more  despotic  sway  over  the 
minds  of  men  than  ever  Roman  Pontiff  assumed. 

We  found  the  broad,  level  street,  between  the  ramb- 
ling buildings  of  the  village,  completely  blocked  up 
with  vehicles  of  all  sorts,  from  Pittsfield  and  Lebanon 
Springs.  Stage  coaches,  hacks,  barouches,  buggies,  — 
every  variety  of  carriage  had  brought  its  quota  and 
variety  of  visitors.  Portly  citizens  in  the  glossiest  of 
broadcloths  and  most  rubicund  of  faces,  with  massive 
watch  seals  and  heavy,  gold-headed  canes ;  hirsute  ex- 
quisites, redolent  of  Broadway  and  eau  de  vie  ;  ladies, 
radiant  in  smiles  and  diamonds ;  men,  eminent  in  poli- 
tics, science,  and  literature  ;  belles,  blues,  and  heiresses; 
in  short,  they  were  a  fashionable  mob,  in  most  of  the 
paraphernalia  of  their  order.  And  a  queer  contrast 
10* 


122  TAoncoxic. 


they  made  to  the  place  where  they  were  collected  ; 
where  all  ornament  was  eschewed  as  the  deadliest  of 
sins,  and  beauty  as  the  veriest  of  vanities  —  to  be  held 
in  corresponding  contempt,  and  studiously  concealed 
under  close  fitting  caps  and  hideous  dresses. 

The  church  is  a  plain,  angular  edifice,  without  tower 
or  spire,  some  eighty  feet  long  by  sixty  broad,  with  its 
broadside  to  the  street.  It  is  a  substantial  clapboarded 
building,  painted  of  a  yellowish  color,  and  with  a 
rounded  roof  covered  with  tin,  which  glitters  very 
brilliantly  in  the  sunlight.  With  its  green  doors,  and 
its  grassy,  enclosed  court-yard,  there  is  a  simple,  cheer- 
ful aspect  about  it,  which,  considering  its  locality  and 
its  builders,  has  a  suspicious  likeness  to  the  beautiful. 

At  either  extremity  of  the  front  is  a  green  door, 
labelled,  the  one  "  Males,"  the  other  "  Females," —  a 
laconic  admonition  to  visitors,  that  being  at  Rome  they 
are  expected  to  do  as  the  Romans  do.  Accordingly, 
parting  from  our  lady  friends,  we  entered  the  portal 
appropriated  to  the  grosser  part  of  humanity. 

The  church  within  is  as  simple  as  its  exterior  prom- 
ises. A  pleasant,  airy,  unpretending  hall  occupies  the 
whole  of  the  lower  story.  Bright  green  Venetian 
blinds  shade  the  windows,  and  about  one  fourth  of  the 
floor  is  fitted  up  with  comfortable  raised  seats,  for  the 
accommodation  of  spectators.  The  remainder  is  a 
clear,  polished  surface,  reminding  one  of  the  travellers' 
stories  of  Dutch  housewifery  —  which  is  always,  indeed, 
more  than  rivalled  by  that  of  the  Shakers.  Here  are 
ranged  some  plain  deal  benches,  without  backs.  A 
huge  sounding-board  oveidiangs  the  whole,  in  order 
that  nothing  may  be  lost  of  the  precious  tones  emitted 


A    SHAKER    MEETING.  123 

beneath  it,  —  precious  indeed,  for  there  Heaven  vouch- 
safes to  hold  direct  intercourse  with   its   chosen  people. 

Several  apertures  in  the  upper  part  of  the  walls  we 
at  first  took  to  be  part  of  an  apparatus  for  ventilation, 
but  they  proved  to  be  ear  holes  for  the  eavesdropping 
of  the  "Lead," — that  is,  two  male  and  two  female 
elders,  who  dwell  in  inviolable  seclusion  in  the  second 
story  of  the  sacred  edifice.  These  august  despots  are 
much  addicted  to  this  species  of  the  kingcraft  of  the 
First  James,  —  but  fortunately  the  people,  in  this  case, 
have  the  advantage  of  knowing  that  they  are  watched. 

A  door  in  each  end  of  the  hall  completed  the  arrange- 
ments, and  was  attended  by  a  queer  looking  janitor  — 
a  compound  of  Shaker  saint  and  Yankee  sexton.  The 
seats  for  spectators  were  nearly  filled  when  we  entered, 
but  the  rest  of  the  hall  was  unoccupied,  and  there  was 
no  Shaker  to  be  seen,  except  the  odd  looking  janitor. 

Presently  a  Shaker  in  full  uniform  appeared,  and 
looked  around  the  room  with  the  air  of  a  reconnoiter- 
ing  officer,  or  more,  perhaps,  as  you  may  have  seen  a 
stage  manager  or  scene  shifter,  just  before  the  rising  of 
the  curtain  in  a  theatre.  When  this  forerunner  retired 
I  judged  something  was  about  to  happen,  and,  having 
no  seat  to  lose,  went  to  the  door  to  learn  what  it 
might  be. 

I  was  not  disappointed.  The  whole  Shaker  people 
were  moving  towards  the  church  in  procession,  and  the 
effect  was  very  fine,  —  particularly  of  the  women,  who, 
dressed  in  spotless  white,  and  moving  with  a  noiseless 
tread  along  the  quiet  valley,  reminded  me  of  a  proces- 
sion of  white  nuns.  Indeed,  so  strongly  did  the  fancy 
possess  me  that  I  caught  myself  listening  for  some  old 


124  TAoncoNic. 


melodious  chant  to  break  upon  the  stillness  of  the  air. 
The  company  of  drab  colored  men  was  much  less  pic- 
turesque, but  came  in  well  enough  to  fill  up  the  unique 
scene,  as  did  also  the  varnished  carriages  of  the  visitors, 
with  their  horses  listlessly  enjoying  the  morning  rest, 
and  the  coachman  lazily  dosing  upon  his  seat; — a  more 
comfortable  personage  does  not  exist  than  your  true 
coachman  waiting  for  his  passengers ;  few  have  learned 
so  well  the  poet's  lesson,  "  to  labor  and  to  wait."  But 
the  procession  advanced,  and  I  did  not  remain  to  have 
the  romance  of  my  first  impressions  destroyed,  but 
returned  to  the  hall  before  they  came  near. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  procession  followed,  and, 
after  some  slight  preliminary  formula,  seated  them- 
selves on  the  deal  benches  —  the  males  upon  the  east, 
the  females  upon  the  west,  facing  each  other.  It  is 
hard  to  describe,  but  easy  to  catalogue  their  costume. 
That  of  the  males  consisted  of  loose  trousers,  a  long, 
straight  vest,  and  a  long,  straight,  shad-bodied  coat,  all 
of  drab,  and  in  the  fashion  of  the  times  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. The  costume  of  Houton's  statue  of  "Washington, 
at  Richmond,  Va.,  is  not  very  different  from  that  of  a 
Shaker  in  full  dress. 

The  dress  of  the  women  was  a  long-waisted,  narrow- 
skirted  gown,  innocent  of  the  abomination  of  bustle ; 
high-heeled  shoes,  muslin  neckerchief,  and  close  fitting 
muslin  caps,  in  all  cases  completely  concealing  the  hair  ; 
every  part  of  the  women's  dress  being  in  most  cases  of 
the  purest  white.  Upon  the  left  arm,  which  is  bent  at 
right  angles  across  the  breast,  the  women  also  carried 
conspicuously  a  white  handkerchief. 

All   this  is  minutely  prescribed  by  the  holy  laws 


THE    EJECTION.  125 


given  by  God  at  New  Lebanon,  in  the  year  1840,  —  of 
which  "  holy  laws  "  I  shall  have  more  to  say,  presently. 
So  much  of  the  Shaker  costume,  but  you  can  have  little 
idea  from  it  of  the  odd  look  of  the  performers,  in  the 
burlesque  which  was  about  to  commence. 

Preliminary  to  the  strictly  religious  exercises,  a  slab 
sided,  hypocritical-looking  individual  came  forward 
to  enlarge  upon  the  beauty  of  decorum ;  and,  after 
complimenting  the  "  world's  people "  on  their  good 
conduct  in  times  past,  to  request  a  continuance  of  it. 
Truth  to  say,  not  only  during  the  grimly  ludicrous 
dances,  but  throughout  a  sermon  which  was  far  better 
fitted  to  provoke  disgust  and  indignation,  than  any 
lighter  feeling,  the  spectators  maintained  a  wonderfully 
correct  deportment. 

"When  this  worthy  had  concluded  his  speech,  a  female 
specimen  of  elongated  acidity  went  up  to  certain  ladies 
who  had  introduced  the  world's  custom  of  carrying 
babies  into  public  assemblies,  and  removed  without  the 
sacred  walls  those  delicate  proofs  of  a  departure  from 
the  cardinal  point  of  Shaker  morality.  Oh,  vinegar 
faced  sister,  how  often  in  church  and  concert-room 
have  we  longed  for  a  preventive  police  force  like 
thine  ! 

Quiet  and  propriety  having  thus  been  provided  for, 
the  Shakers  prepared  to  violate  both,  in  the  legitimate 
way.  The  whole  assembly  rose  and  sang  a  hymn, 
accompanying  the  music  by  a  singular  motion  of  feet 
and  hands,  which  gave  the  performers  a  marked  like- 
ness to  a  band  of  kangaroos.  I  could  catch  only  two 
words  of  what  appeared  to  be  the  burthen  of  the  song, 
—  "lovely  virgins,"  being  ejaculated  violently  at  every 


126  TAGIICONIC. 


turn  of  the  stanza.  What  with  the  song  and  the  sing- 
ers, the  eleven  thousand  virgins  of  Cologne  came  for- 
cibly to  mind.     "  Lovely  "  indeed  ! 

After  the  hymn,  followed  a  nasal,  droning  prayer,— 
not  very  unlike  that  of  other  uneducated  sectai'ians,  — 
full  of  absurd,  but  perhaps  unintentional,  blasphemy ; 
pharisaic  self-righteousness,  and  a  sort  of  half  pitiful, 
half  spiteful  concern  for  the  souls  of  their  neighbors. 
Then  came  more  singing  in  the  unknown  tongue  —  an 
unintelligible  gibberish  —  accompanied  by  spasmodic 
dances,  promenades,  and  evolutions,  very  similar  to 
those  with  which  a  country  militia  company  astonishes 
the  village  boys.  I  must  confess,  however,  that  the 
performers  here  evinced  a  superior  state  of  discipline, 
and  very  excellent  drilling. 

Often  a  spirit  of  enthusiasm  is  wrought  up  by  these 
performances,  which  surpasses  all  bounds.  The  actors 
whirl  round  with  inconceivable  rapidity,  shout,  leap, 
and  finally  fall  in  ecstatic  trances ;  but  on  this  occasion 
something  checked  the  usual  fervor. 

The  assembly  at  length  resumed  their  seats,  and  the 
same  sanctimonious  individual  who  first  addressed  the 
meeting,  again  came  forward,  and  turning  his  back  full 
upon  the  saints,  began  a  sermon  directed  exclusively  at 
the  world's  people,  —  or  the  "  children  of  corruption," 
as  the  elect  charitably  style  us. 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  what  could  have  been  the 
object  of  the  preacher,  in  directing  the  mass  of  crudi- 
ties which  he  did,  at  such  an  audience  as  that  before 
him.  One  can  hardly  conceive  the  degree  of  vanity 
which  could  lead  him  to  expect  to  pervert  any  one  of 
them  to  the  galvanic   religion  of  the    saints  who   sat 


THE    SERMON.  127 


behind  him,  twirling  their  thumbs  in  complaisant  sto- 
lidity. On  the  other  hand,  the  Shaker  priesthood  are 
far  too  shrewd  to  display  wantonly  the  brazen  impu- 
dence of  this  bold  defender  of  their  faith.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  although  nominally  addressing  the 
world's  people,  our  preacher  was  all  the  while  "  whip- 
ping the  Devil  round  the  stump,"  and  really  was  work- 
ing upon  his  brethren.  Perhaps  all  the  while  he 
fancied  he  heard  them  saying,  "  Yea,  verily,  how  our 
beloved  prophet  is  confounding  these  men  of  vain  lam- 
ing." 

And  confound  them  he  certainly  did,  for  never  was 
heard  a  more  odious  compound  of  blasphemous  assump- 
tion, ignorance,  and  ludicrous  sophistry.  He  began  by 
claiming  that  the  corruptions  of  the  Middle.  Ages  had 
so  far  destroyed  the  authenticity  of  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures as  to  render  a  new  revelation  necessary ;  and 
such  a  revelation  he  claimed  that  the  Millennial  Church 
possessed.  He  denounced,  unmercifully,  the  errors  of 
the  Church  of  Rome,  and  proclaimed  the  Protestant 
churches  children  of  that  scarlet  woman,  and  grand- 
children of  the  arch-fiend  himself. 

Having  thus  fairly  demolished  the  religious  institu- 
tions of  the  world,  he  attacked  the  social,  beginning  at 
the  holy  estate  of  matrimony,  —  by  way,  I  presume,  of 
laying  the  axe  at  the  root  of  the  tree.  You  cannot 
imagine  the  filth  which  he  heaped  upon  those  who  live 
in  wedlock.  McDowell  never  described  the  interior 
life  of  the  lowest  brothel  in  colors  so  revolting  as  those 
in  which  this  cold-blooded  hypocrite  painted  the  holy 
shrines  of  christian  homes.  I  do  not  know  but  the  out- 
ward life  of  this  man  may  be  pure,  but  sure  I  am  that 


128  TAGIICOXJC. 


the  heart  which  engenders  such  things  must  be  full  of 
seething  corruption. 

There  would  have  been  something  infinitely  amusing 
in  the  whimsical  deductions  by  which  our  theologian 
maintained  his  opinions,  had  they  not  been  so  hideously 
profane.  Such  wresting  the  Scriptures  by  main  force, 
I  never  before  met,  in  all  my  experience  of  theological 
controversy.  For  instance,  the  words  of  our  Saviour, 
commencing,  "  I  came  not  to  bring  peace  but  a  sword," 
were  coolly  interpreted  into  a  command  that  men  should 
sever  all  the  ties  of  parental,  filial,  social  affection, 
blot  out  the  sweet  influences  of  family  life,  and  become 
like  the  spiritless  beings  in  whom  subjection  to  men  of 
the  speaker's  kidney  had  destroyed  all  of  soul  that  is 
destructible.  In  the  relations  of  parent  and  child,  of 
brother  and  sister,  husband  and  wife,  there  are  com- 
monly thought  to  be  obligations  of  some  sanctity ;  but 
a  stroke  of  Shaker  logic  annihilated  them  in  a  breath : 
"  A  man  is  a  man,"  argued  our  preacher,  "  before  he  is 
a  father,  and  therefore  he  may  and  should  eradicate 
from  his  heart  all  affection  for  his  own  child,  in  prefer- 
ence to  that  of  another ;  a  man  is  a  man  before  he  is  a 
husband,  and  though  he  may  love  the  woman  " —  in  a 
Shakerly  way,  of  course  —  "  he  must  hate  the  wife."  I 
do  not  recollect  how  the  case  of  a  child  was  disposed  of, 
for  certainly  he  is  a  child  before  he  is  a  man ;  but  the 
preacher  went  on  through  the  whole  of  the  family 
relations. 

The  burthen  of  the  whole  affair  was  the  praise  of 
celibacy  and  the  abuse  of  wedlock,  —  which  was 
treated  in  a  way  sufficiently  scandalous,  not  to  say 
indecent.     Our  philosopher  did  not,  however,  wish  the 


THE    SHAKERS.  129 


human  race  to  become  extinct,  but  he  thought  it  might 
be  propagated  in  a  more  decorous  and  1<-"  objection- 
able mode  —  which,  however,  he  did  not  condescend 
to  point  out,  although  we  were  curious  to  know.  The 
sort  of  monster  a  Shaker  "Frankenstein"  would  create, 
would  be  worth  one's  while  to  see. 

Fatigued  with  this  trash,  I  diverted  myself  by  study- 
ing the  faces  of  the  Laity,  and  the  lesson  was  more 
easily  understood  than  the  sermon.  The  men  did  not 
lack  a  certain  air  of  vulgar  intelligence.  There  was 
perhaps  as  healthful  a  hue  in  their  cheeks  as  you  will 
ordinarily  see  in  a  country  congregation ;  but  the  stolid 
sanctimony  of  the  mass  was  very  repulsive,  and  the 
lonely  and  desolate  air  of  the  old  men  was  painful  to 
see.  I  could  not  but  contrast  these  last  with  the  ven- 
erable fathers  of  the  hamlet  whom  I  used  to  look 
upon  with  so  much  reverence,  in  the  village  church  of 
L.,  as  they  sat  in  their  own  pews,  surrounded  by  chil- 
dren and  grandchildren,  or,  in  the  crowded  porch, 
returned  the  kindly  and  familiar  greetings  of  their 
pastor.  To  those,  who  have  considered  well  the  mel- 
lowing influences  of  whatever  reminds  us  of  the  vicis- 
situdes of  life,  it  will  not  appear  an  indifferent  matter 
that  Shaker  discipline  destroys  those  distinctions  in 
dress,  which  mark  the  mourner  and  the  bride,  the 
young  man  and  the  grey-haired  sire,  —  even  tin.'  matron 
and  the  child. 

A  sad  sight  was  that,  of  the  young  girls  cul  <>A'  from 
all  that  sheds  a  charm  and  halo  upon  their  years  of 
maidenhood.  It  is  some  relief,  however,  to  think 
that  many  of  them  will,  in  good  time,  recognize 
the  teachings  of  Mother  Nature  to  be  far  better  than 
11 


130  TAGIICONIC 


those  of  Mother  Ann,  and,  exchanging  the  Shaker  garb 
for  a  bridal  dress,  flit  away  to  the  Springs  —  Lebanon 
Springs,  our  Gretna  Green.  Still  the  sight  is  sad,  for 
very  few  of  the  sisters,  in  their  hideous  apparel,  show 
sufficient  attractions  to  warrant  a  man  in  making  his 
way  to  them  through  the  impediments  which  are  here 
sure  to  beset  the  path  of  true  love.  Nevertheless,  I 
earnestly  recommend  any  young  gentleman  romantically 
inclined,  to  make  the  attempt,  and  so  rescue  at  least 
one  enchanted  damsel  from  the  den  of  these  celibate 
dragons.  Be  sure  there  is  beauty  there,  if  you  can  but 
discern  it.  But,  seriously,  the  sallow  cheeks  and  the 
lacklustre  eyes  bear  sad  record  of  the  violation  of  Na- 
ture's laws.  From  seat  to  seat  the  eye  wanders  almost 
in  vain,  in  its  search  for  a  cheek  of  rose  or  a  spark- 
ling eye  ;  with  few  exceptions,  all  is  listless,  forlorn 
inanition. 

The  contrast  in  physical  appearance,  between  the 
males  and  females,  is  very  remarkable,  and  it  is  curious 
that  Mrs.  Kirkland  has  noticed  one,  exactly  the  reverse, 
between  the  priests  and  nuns  of  the  papal  church  in 
Italy.  "  There  is,"  she  says,  "  a  painful  difference 
between  the  aspects  of  the  priests  and  that  of  the  nuns, 
in  point  of  cheerfulness.  The  priests  wear  a  look 
which  cannot  be  called  anything  but  sad.  They  have 
not  the  appearance  of  men  satisfied  with  their  lot  in 
life,  or  who  have  found  the  best  consolation  for  its  ills. 
The  nuns,  on  the  contrary,  —  so  far  as  our  opportuni- 
ties for  observation  have  extended,  —  were  more  cheer- 
ful than  most  women.  The  blood  mantles  in  their 
cheeks ;  their  eyes  light  up  easily ;  they  show  you  their 
precious  things  with  an  evident  enthusiasm  ;  and  when 


THE    MONASTIC    LIFE.  131 

you  ask  them  if  the  recluse  life  is  a  happy  one,  they 
answer  with  such  warmth  and  earnestness  that  you 
cannot  doubt  their  sincerity.  Perhaps  it  may  be  that 
women  are  more  easily  satisfied  with  a  round  of  petty 
duties.  Ambition  is  not  the  vice  of  their  sex.  The 
care  of  the  poor  and  suffering,  and  the  education  of 
youth,  fill  up  their  lives  and  leave  them  no  leisure  for 
repining.  "With  the  priests,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  mat- 
ters may  be  quite  different."* 

The  reason  of  this  difference  is  not  far  to  seek ; 
Mrs.  Kirkland  solves  her  problem  in  stating  it.  The 
Roman  priesthood  are  men  of  cultivated  minds,  — 
many  of  them  with  a  hearty  contempt  for  their  profes- 
sion,—  some  of  them  burning  with  the  purest  patriot- 
ism ;  their  aspirations  are  for  something  entirely  other 
than  their  daily  steps  lead  to.  Longing,  almost  hope- 
lessly, for  their  own  and  Italy's  better  day,  they  should 
be  sad. 

The  nun  has  no  such  fruitless  aspirations ;  she  be- 
lieves in  the  earnestness  of  her  nuptials  with  the  head 
of  the  Church.  In  her  seclusion,  she  knows  little  of 
her  country's  wrongs ;  she  is  cut  off  only  nominally 
from  social  connection ;  only  conjugal  love  is  forbidden 
her ;  father,  mother,  sister,  brother,  are  regarded  by 
her  with  an  affection  only  the  more  intense,  that  they 
are  separated  from  her.  She  is  often  more  highly 
accomplished,  more  perfectly  cultivated  than  her  com- 
panions whom  she  left  in  the  world;  she  is  surrounded 
by  the  masterpieces  of  painting  and  sculpture;  she 
listens  to  the  masterpieces  of  music;  she  may  read  tin' 
masterpieces  of  at  least  Italian   poetry  and   eloquence. 

*  "Holidays  Abroad,"  by  Mrs,  Kirkland;  vol.  II,  p.  6. 


132  TAGIICOXIC. 


Nor  is  she  confined  to  "  a  round  of  petty  duties  ;"  "  the 
care  of  the  poor  and  suffering,  and  the  education  of 
youth  "  are  surely  things  very  far  removed  from  that. 
But  one  issue  for  the  tenderness  and  sympathies  of 
woman's  nature  is  closed  for  her,  and  from  more  than 
one  of  woman's  woes  she  is  exempt. 

Let  us  look  at  the  reverse  contrast.  The  male 
Shaker  is  generally  of  the  most  limited  information  ; 
he  has  few  or  no  aspirations  beyond  a  comfortable  sup- 
port in  life ;  the  place  of  patriotism,  love,  ambition,  are 
all  supplied  by  self-righteousness,  and  in  some  by  an 
escape  from  the  responsibilities  of  life.  Had  he  been 
left  to  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  he  would  have 
ploughed,  and  sowed,  and  reaped ;  being  a  Shaker,  he 
does  the  same  thing,  only  in  rather  a  more  farmer-like 
manner.  He  would  have  eaten,  drunken,  and  slept ; 
and  being  a  Shaker,  he  is  more  certain  of  doing  the 
same  all  his  life,  in  a  comfortable,  hearty  manner.  The 
main  difference  in  so  far,  arises  from  the  fact  that  he 
sleeps  alone,  —  and  so  falls  into  old  age  lonely,  forlorn, 
and  childless.  In  the  heyday  of  his  life,  in  the  ordi- 
nary pursuits  of  his  class,  animated  by  superstition  and 
a  strong  esprit  du  corps,  he  has  all  to  which  he  is  capa- 
ble of  aspiring.  Of  course  this  applies  only  to  the 
mass.  There  are  men  among  them  of  shrewd  intelli- 
gence, and  even  of  polished  manners.  One  can  easily 
imagine  motives  which  might  induce  such  to  bury  them- 
selves in  the  shades  of  Hancock  and  Lebanon. 

The  Shaker  woman  has  a  more  melancholy  lot. 
Love  —  "  the  first  necessity  of  woman's  nature  "  — 
is  dwarfed,  in  her  case,  to  most  unnatural  ugliness. 
She  must  renounce  the  natural   affections;  she  must 


IEMALE    SIIAKERS.  133 

love  none  but  her  own   unlovable   associates.     "  Her 

brethren,  according  to  the  flesh,"  the  must  regard  as 
outcast  and  vile.  Her  education  must  be  confined  to 
the  narrowest  possible  limits  ;  "  the  arts,  sciences,  and 
letters,  as  ye  call  them,"  are  expressly  prohibited,  by 
statute.  Her  music  must  be  the  noise  I  have  to-day 
described;  if  she  reads,  it  must  be  only  the  senseless 
jargon  of  Shaker  theology.  Her  occupations  must  be 
of  the  most  petty  nature ;  in  the  pleasure  which  suits 
the  busy,  fretful  housewife,  in  scrubbing  and  polishing, 
she  may  share  to  her  heart's  content ;  she  may  and 
must  go  through  the  tiresome  routine  of  every-day 
duties  as  our  country  dames  use.  But  when  all  is  done, 
the  fruit  of  her  labor  goes  not  to  comfort  or  cheer  her- 
self, her  home,  or  her  family.  Food,  clothing,  and  lodg- 
ing she  undoubtedly  has,  —  good,  wholesome,  and  suffi- 
cient, —  but  it  is  only,  whatever  it  may  be  called,  as 
the  bond  servant  of  the  Lead.  "With  no  hope  of  a 
to-morrow  happier  than  to-day,  the  Shaker  women  toil 
on,  cheerless  and  forlorn  ;  surely,  nothing  is  less  inex- 
plicable than  their  sallow  and  inane  countenances. 

The  sudden  cessation  of  the  speaker's  voice,  and  the 
striking  up  of  a  quick,  lively,  camp-meeting  tune,  broke 
in  upon  my  reveries,  and  the  dance  recommenced. 
Bound  and  round  the  soulless,  joyless  rabble  went ; 
more  spasmodic  —  more  like  a  band  of  galvanized 
corpses  —  than  before.  There  was  evidently  a  des- 
perate attempt  to  work  up  an  excitement ;  but  it  was 
quite  as  evident  that  the  spirit  could,  by  no  coaxing  or 
driving,  be  persuaded  to  move.  Plainly,  there  was  no 
hope  of  whirling-gifts  to-day.  The  presence  of  the 
faithless  men  and  women  of  the  world  had,  perhaps, 
11* 


134  TAGIICONIC. 


greater  effect  upon  the  nerves  and  tendons  of  the  dan- 
cers than  upon  the  tongue  of  the  orator ;  and,  after  a 
while,  they  gave  over  in  despair,  and  took  up  their  line 
of  march  for  their  homes,  where,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  a 
substantial  dinner  awaited  them,  for  the  exercise  must 
have  given  them  a  harvester's  appetite. 
Thus  ended  a  Shaker  Meeting. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

NOTES     ON     SnAKERDOJI, 

TniNKiXG  you  may  be  interested  in  learning  some- 
thing more  of  the  strange  people  of  whom  I  wrote  you 
in  my  last,  I  have  taken  the  pains  to  collect  such  infor- 
mation with  regard  to  them  as  I  could,  from  reliable 
sources.  I  have  especially  made  use  of  a  little  book 
entitled,  "  Two  Years  among  the  Shakers,"  which  was 
written  by  one  Mr.  Lamson.  This  gentleman,  in  search 
of  a  better  state  of  society,  forsook  our  deformed  social 
organization  for  the  Community  at  Hopcdale ;  and,  not 
finding  there  the  Elysium  for  which  he  pined,  flitted 
thence  to  the  "  City  of  Peace,"  in  Hancock,  Mass. 
Two  years'  experience  quite  convinced  him  that  this 
was  still  farther  from  what  he  sought ;  and  so,  with  his 
wife  Mary,  who  had  faithfully  followed  him  in  all  his 
wanderings,  he  returned  to  the  world,  —  more  recon- 
ciled, it  is  to  be  hoped,  to  strive  after  perfection  with 
the  generation  of  which  it  pleased  his  Creator  to  make 
him  a  part. 

However,  aside  from  his  disordered  social  notions, 
Mr.  Lamson  is  a  diligent  and  shrewd  observer,  with  an 
honest  desire  to  see  correctly,  and  report  fairly  what 
he  saw.     In  so  far  as  he  speaks  from  observation,  h<   is 


136  TAGIICONIC. 


undoubtedly  deserving  of  credit,  and   his   conclusions 
are  generally  plausible. 

HISTORY. 

Tbe  "  Millennial  Church  "  was  founded  in  the  year 
1747,  by  one  James  Wardwell  and  his  wife  Jane,  with 
a  few  other  persons,  mostly  of  the  Quaker  order.  The 
tenets  which  they  then  held  were  derived  from  those 
preached  nearly  a  century  before,  by  certain  enthusiasts 
among  the  Huguenots,  styled  the  "  French  Prophets." 
Until  the  year  1758  the  Shaker  Church  was  in  a  very 
inchoate  and  precarious  state,  —  being  distinguished  by 
few  of  those  doctrines  for  which  it  is  now  peculiar. 

In  this  latter  year,  however,  they  were  joined  by 
Ann  Lee  —  a  coarse  and  illiterate  woman  —  the  daugh- 
ter of  one  Manchester  blacksmith  and  the  wife  of 
another;  from  the  latter  of  whom  she  separated, 
after  having  borne  him  four  children,  all  of  whom  died 
in  infancy.  She  is  represented  to  have  been  very  in- 
temperate, and  in  the  constant  use  of  profane  and 
obscene  language.  Yet,  by  the  masculine  energy  of  her 
mind,  she  soon  acquired  a  controlling  influence  in  the 
infant  sect,  and  induced  the  aged  Wardwells  to  yield 
up  to  her  the  "  Lead." 

Assuming  now  the  title  of  Mother,  —  which  Jane 
Wardwell  had  before  borne,  —  she  introduced  the  doc- 
trine of  celibacy,  and  organized  the  church  government, 
under  the  style  of  "The  Mother  Ann,  and  the  Elders 
with  her."  Afterwards,  reluctantly,  as  it  is  said,  at  the 
instigation  of  the  Elders,  she  proclaimed  that  the 
Millennium  had  commenced,  and  that  Christ  had 
made  his  second  appearance  upon  earth,  in  her  own 


HISTORY    OF   THE    SHAKERS.  137 

person.  In  the  year  1774,  Mother  Ann,  with  the 
wealthiest  of  her  followers,  found  it  expedient  to  emi- 
grate to  America, —  and  arrived  at  New  York  on  the 
lGth  of  August,  in  that  year.  By  the  advice  of  some 
Quakers  they  proceeded  at  once  up  the  Hudson,  to 
Niskeyund,  now  Watervliet,  where  they  have  ever 
since  maintained  a  society.  In  1780,  an  exciting  revi- 
val of  religion  called  them  to  New  Lebanon,  where 
they  gathered  their  portion  of  the  harvest  of  souls,  and 
established  the  society  at  that  place,  which  is  now  the 
most  flourishing  in  the  world,  and  the  seat  of  the  Chief 
Pontificate.  In  that  year  1780,  the  Shaker  leaders 
were  suspected  of  treason,  and  thrown  into  prison  at 
Poughkeepsie,  but  Gov.  Clinton  immediately  ordered 
their  release.  This  pseudo  persecution,  however,  helped 
on  their  cause, —  and  Mother  Ann  and  the  Elders,  trav- 
elling wherever  inducements  were  held  out,  established 
Societies  in  Massachusetts,  Maine,  Pennsylvania,  and 
other  states. 

In  1784,  Mother  Ann  died,  —  which,  it  might  have 
been  supposed,  would  put  an  end  to  her  divine  preten- 
sions. She  is,  however,  still  regarded  as  a  second 
incarnation  of  the  Wo7-d,  and  revered  by  all  true  SI  in- 
kers,—  as  the  Son  is  by  Orthodox  Christians. 

Before  departing  from  the  world,  she  had  appointed 
James  Whitaker  her  successor,  or  rather  her  vicar, 
upon  earth ;  and  from  that  day  to  this,  a  succession  of 
similar  rulers  have  administered  the  government, — 
"bringing  the  people  into  order,"  and  from  time  to  time 
adding  new  tenets  to  their  creed,  and  new  command- 
ments to  their  code,  dictated,  as  they  claim,  by  Divine 
inspiration. 


138  TAGHCONIC. 


GOVERNMENT. 

The  Shaker  Government  is  a  theological  despotism ; 
holding  in  abject  submission  the  body,  mind,  and  heart 
of  its  subjects,  —  and  regulating  every  thought,  word, 
and  action,  from  the  most  awful  subjects  of  meditation 
down  to  the  cutting  of  the  hair  and  the  posture  in  bed. 

The  First  Elder  at  New  Lebanon,  as  successor  of 
Mother  Ann,  is  supreme  ruler  throughout  the  world,  in 
all  things  spiritual  and  temporal ;  every  command  issued 
by  him  is  regarded  as  emanating  directly  from  Jehovah, 
and  is  obeyed  with  a  corresponding  implicitness.  All 
other  rulers  and  governments,  throughout  the  earth,  are 
regarded  as  rebels  against  the  authority  of  Heaven. 
Yet  they  accept  the  protection  of  the  law  of  the  land, 
and  often  appeal  to  it  in  their  dealings  with  the  world's 
people. 

The  First  Elder  at  New  Lebanon  appoints  a  Second 
Elder,  and  also  a  First  and  Second  Eldress,  —  all  of 
whom  he  has  power  to  depose  at  will.  These  four 
compose  the  "  Ministry,"  or  "  Holy  Lead."  They  ap- 
point a  subordinate  ministry,  similarly  organized,  in 
every  Society  of  Shakers  in  the  world ;  and  this  sub- 
ordinate ministry  is  strictly  accountable  to  the  "  Lead," 
at  the  "  Head  of  Influence,"  but  have  unlimited  power 
over  the  laity  of  their  respective  charges.  In  each 
Family,  again,  Family  Elders  are  appointed,  with 
power  over  the  members  of  the  household.  A  Family 
you  must  understand  to  mean,  in  Shaker  parlance,  a 
collection  of  as  many  persons  as  can  comfortably  live 
in  a  house  about  the  size  of  some  of  our  large  fac- 
tory boarding-houses,  —  say  fifty  or  more.     Thus  three 


SHAKER    GOVERNMENT.  139 

grades  of  despots  are  established  over  the  saints,  from 
whom  they  receive  prompt  and  unquestioning  obedi- 
ence in  all  matters  whatever. 

You  will  naturally  ask,  in  what  manner  such  dominion 
is  maintained.  The  natural  machiavelism  of  the  Lead 
is  remarkable.  They  have  some  art  by  which  to  gov- 
ern every  mind;  or,  when  that  fails,  to  drive  the  rebel 
from  their  fold.  Over  the  great  mass,  especially  of 
those  brought  up  among  them,  ignorance,  superstition, 
and  an  utter  inaptitude  for  self-reliance,  are  sufficiently 
powerful  restraints  ;  in  other  cases,  favor,  flattery,  minor 
offices,  and  hope  of  succession  to  the  Lead,  operate. 
Others,  again,  are  broken  down  men  of  the  world, 
weary  of  unsuccessful  effort  and  only  desirous  of  quiet. 
Fear  of  hunger  here,  and  eternal  perdition  hereafter, 
with  perhaps  some  spiritual  pride,  controls  the  mass. 
Fear  of  expulsion  to  the  cold  charities  and  weary 
efforts  of  the  world,  induces  at  least  outward  obedience 
from  the  few. 

The  Holy  Lead  live  in  sacred  privacy,  in  the  second 
story  of  the  church  building.  They  never  associate 
with  the  rest  of  the  fraternity,  but,  although  when  not 
engaged  in  official  duties  expected  to  work  with  their 
hands,  they  have  separate  workshops,  —  one  for  the 
males  and  one  for  the  female  Elders, —  where  the  com- 
monalty are  never  allowed  to  enter,  except  when  sum- 
moned ;  and  even  the  inferior  Elders  may  never  come, 
unless  upon  important  business.  Into  the  sacred  dwell* 
ing  houses,  not  even  the  subordinate  Elders  may  ever 
enter. 

Although  dwelling  in  the  church  building,  the  Lead 
do  not  take  their  meals  there,  but  at  the  house  of  the 


140  TAGIICONIC. 


"  Church  Family,"  the  uppcr-lendom  of  Shaker  land. 
Even  here  they  do  not  dine  with  the  Family;  but  a 
table  is  laid  for  them,  in  a  separate  room,  where 
they  eat  in  solitary  grandeur.  When  they  condescend 
—  as  they  sometimes  do  —  to  dine  with  other  Fam- 
ilies, the  same  magnificent  state  is  maintained.  On 
other  occasions  the  Lead  visit  the  Families,  when  they 
retire  at  once  to  the  Elders'  rooms.  The  Family  are 
then  collected  in  the  hall ;  the  Lead  come  forth,  are 
formally  introduced,  and  address  the  people  in  a  style 
of  official  affection,  —  perhaps  not  very  different,  in 
substance,  from  that  of  more  polished  Bishops. 

THEOLOGT. 

The  Shaker  Theology  is  altogether  a  new  thing  under 
the  sun,  and  may  be  new  again  to-morrow  or  next 
week  —  for  one  of  the  Elders  assured  Mr.  Lamson  that 
this  doctrine  of  the  Godhead  was  "  a  growing  thing  in 
the  world."  The  Shaker  Deity  is  neither  a  Trinity 
nor  a  Unity,  but  a  Duality,  or  better,  perhaps,  a  Quar- 
tette, consisting  of  The  Father  and  Holy  Mother  "Wis- 
dom with  their  son  and  daughter,  Christ  and  Mother 
Ann  Lee.  These  last  again  are  the  parents  of  the 
new  or  spiritual  creation.  In  like  manner  they  dualise 
the  principal  of  evil,  and  derive  from  it  a  world  full  of 
evil  spirits. 

HOLY  LAWS  AND  ORDER  BOOK. 

Formerly  Laws  and  Creed  came  orally  from  the 
Lead,  as  occasion  demanded,  and  as  in  all  official  acts 
they  are  supposed  to  be  inspired,  all  was  regarded  as  of 


SHAKER    DIVINITY.  141 

Divine  Authority.  But,  a  few  years  ago,  something 
more  imposing  was  deemed  desirable,  and,  at  the  inter- 
cession of  Mother  Ann  Lee,  God  revealed  His  Laws 
at  New  Lebanon  in  1840.  They  are  written  in  twenty 
chapters,  fourteen  of  which  were  read  aloud  by  Elder 
James  Whitaker  —  spiritually,  of  course,  for  Elder 
James  died  fifty  years  ago  —  to  the  human  instrument 
who  wrote  them  down.  The  other  six  were  delivered 
by  the  Holy  Recording  Angel,  and  recorded  in  the 
same  way.  A  supplement  called  the  "  Order  Book," 
has  since  been  added;  it  goes  more  into  detail,  but  is 
of  equal  authority  with  the  Holy  Laws.  A  copy  of 
each,  in  manuscript,  is  deposited  with  the  Family 
Elders,  and  read  aloud  to  the  people  on  Christmas 
day,  and  three  times  on  Mother  Ann's  birth  day.  For 
the  rest  of  the  year  it  is  kept  under  lock  and  key,  in 
accordance  Avith  directions  contained  in  the  laws  them- 
selves. 

The  mode  in  which  the  Shaker  God  establishes  his 
laws,  is  the  most  unique  thing  about  them,  and  singu- 
larly in  contrast  with  the  "Thus  saith  the  Lord"  of 
Holy  Writ.  The  Omniscient,  we  are  told,  distrustful 
of  His  own  work,  at  the  close  expressly  provides  that 
"  So  these  things  shall  be,  if  your  Holy  Lead  approve  ; 
if  your  Holy  Lead,  in  their  Holy  wisdom  with  which  I 
have  anointed  them,  give  them  their  union,"  that  is, 
approval,  —  in  which  case  "  Let  them  affix  thereunto 
their  hands  and  seals;"  which  was  doubtless  done. 

The  Lead  may  also,  at  discretion,  set  aside   any  Di- 
vine Law,  —  as  is  often  done  with  regard  to  dress,  and 
the    use   of   spirituous    liquors ;  and    as    Mr.    Lamson 
thinks,  occasionally  in  the  matter  of  sexual  intercourse. 
12 


142  TAGIICONIC. 


EDUCATION. 

On  the  subject  of  education  these  lawa  are  curiously 
precise.  Something  like  schools  the  statute-  of  Massa- 
chusetts insist  there  must  be,  even  in  Shakerdom ;  and 
by  the  Shaker  laws  it  is  provided  that  in  them  may  be 
taught  Heading,  Writing,  a  little  Arithmetic,  a  little 
Geography,  and  a  little  Grammar.  Chemistry,  Phi- 
losophy, and  the  whole  tribe  of  onomies  and  ologies  are 
sweepingly  forbidden,  together  with  the  Fine  Arts. 
As  some  doubts  might  arise  in  the  minds  of  a  scrupu- 
lous teacher,  as  to  how  much  a  "little"  of  the  pre- 
scribed studies  might  be,  it  is  further  explained  that  "  it 
is  better  to  know  too  little  than  too  much,"  —  in  fact,  I 
suspect  that  the  less  the  better,  for  the  purposes  of  the 
Lead.  The  favored  few,  who  are  destined  to  rule  and 
prophecy,  do  doubtless,  however,  go  much  further.  I 
have  some  reason  to  know  that  Philemon  Stuart,  the 
Chief  Prophet  at  New  Lebanon,  is  a  reader  of  the 
works  of  Andrew  Jackson  Davis,  and  the  series  of 
works  published  by  Fowler  &  "Wells,  in  New  York. 

GIFTS    AND    REVELATIONS. 

A  gift,  in  the  Millennial  language,  is  something,  any- 
thing which  the  favored  individual  receives  from  some 
one  of  the  Godhead,  some  distinguished  saint,  or,  per- 
haps, one  of  the  prophets.  Many  great  personages  in 
history  have,  since  death,  been  spiritually  baptised  into 
the  church,  and  are  counted  high  saints  in  the  Shaker 
calendar.  Among  others,  are  Napoleon,  Tamerlane, 
Generals  Jackson  and  Harrison,  Pockahuntus,  and  King 
Philip  of  the  TTampanoags.    Generals  Washington  and 


SHAKER    POETRY.  143 

Lafayette  are  especial  favorites,  and  are  often  seen  by 
the  gifted  ones,  mounted  on  white  chargers,  and  keep- 
ing guard  over  the  Mount  Sinai  in  Hancock. 

A  "  gift "  may  be  either  moral,  as  more  faith,  hope, 
love,  and  the  like  ;  or  it  may  be  the  spiritual  receiving 
of  some  natural  object,  as  clothing,  fruit,  wine,  —  in 
which  case  the  recipient  goes  through  in  pantomime  the 
same  motions  as  if  he  actually  received  the  thing  spirit- 
ually discerned ;  instances  will  be  given  in  the  account 
of  a  mountain  meeting.  Sometimes  the  gift  is  a  revela- 
tion in  prose  or  verse,  in  which  case  the  seer  sings  or  re- 
cites it ;  but  it  is  for  the  Lead  to  say  whether  it  is  from 
above  or  below  —  true  or  false.  Care  is  also  taken  to 
provide  in  the  holy  laws  that  no  times  or  season  shall 
be  set  for  the  fulfillment  of  any  prophecy. 

I  must  give  you  some  specimens  of  these  Shaker  gifts 
in  verse.  Here  is  one  from  "Job  of  old,"  to  whom 
it  seems  the  waters  of  the  river  of  life  have  not  proved 
quite  a  Helicon.  Few  will  think  them  equal  to  some 
remarks  of  his  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament. 


"  You  've  much  to  suffer,  much  to  bear, 

In  body  here  I  know. 
But  if  you  're  faithful  you  shall  share 

My  blessing  as  you  go. 
Be  wise,  my  child,  in  all  your  way,— 

Be  careful  what  you  speak,— 
Be  on  your  guard,  both  night  and  day, 

And  labor  to  be  meek." 


Another,  in  the  unknown  tongue 


"  O  que  won  wister  wa, 
We  quon  questa  ka, 
Quo  con  vister  we, 
Wo  zon  zanc  ke, 


144  TAGHCONIC. 


Que  wain  wisna  quo, 
Se  naln  quisna  woo, 
A\'c  sain  win  DO  haw, 
Ka  ween  na  Da  Wan." 


Another,  half  and  half: 


"  Te  he,  tc  how,  te  hoot  te  te  hoot, 
Me  be  mother's  pretty  papoose, 
Me  ting,  me  dance  tc  I  diddle  urn, 
Because  me  here  te  whities  come. 


And  so  on,  by  the  dozen  pages. 

All  are  supposed  to  be  sung  through  the  instrument 
or  medium,  by  the  spirit  of  some  departed  saint. 

From  the  region  in  which  they  originated,  and  from 
great  similarity  in  their  character,  I  have  no  doubt  the 
"  spiritual  rappings "  now  in  vogue  had  their  root  in 
Shakerism.  The  Millennial  Church  have  always 
claimed  to  hold  communion  with  the  unseen  world. 

MOUNTAIN   MEETINGS. 

About  the  year  1841,  a  special  revelation  was  re- 
ceived, through  the  "  instrument "  at  Lebanon,  com- 
manding all  the  societies  of  "  our  Zion  upon  earth " 
to  select  a  spot  upon  some  mountain  or  hill  near  their 
respective  villages,  for  a  Most  Holy  Place  of  "Worship. 
Accordingly,  the  brethren  at  Hancock,  following  the 
guidance  of  an  angel,  and  armed  with  pickaxes,  spades, 
and  like  instruments,  marched,  one  day,  up  the  hill 
which  is  now  called  Mount  Sinai,  and  came  to  a  halt 
upon  the  place  which  the  angel  designated.  Here  they 
at  once  fell  to  work,  and,  having  cleared  about  a  third 
of  an  acre  of  stones,  trees,  and  rubbish,  graded  it  in 
that  perfect  manner  characteristic  of  all   Shaker  work. 


MOUNTAIN    MEETINGS.  145 

This  plat  was  afterwards  surrounded  with  a  plain, 
white  strip  fence,  and  a  lower  fence  erected  around  a 
small  space  in  the  centre,  in  the  form  of  a  flattened 
hexagon.  This  latter  is  called  the  fountain,  and  is 
fabled  to  be  filled  with  spiritual  water,  for  the  cleansing 
of  the  nations.  Within  it  is  a  marble  slab,  some  four 
feet  high,  with  an  inscription  stating  that  it  was  placed 
there  by  command  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  —  and 
much  more. 

This  stone,  and  the  wild  processions  up  the  moun- 
tain, have  given  rise  to  the  popular  story,  that  the 
Shakers  one  night  hunted  the  Arch  Fiend  up  the 
mountain,  and  there  having  slain  and  buried  him, 
danced  around  his  grave  in  triumph.  It  is  not  unlikely 
that  in  some  of  their  Walpurgis  revels  they  may  have 
performed  some  such  heroic  feat  —  for  nothing  is 
foreign  to,  nor  incredible  of,  Shaker  superstition ;  but 
if  so,  it  was  only  a  single  performance,  and  not  the 
staple  of  the  mountain  meetings ;  nor  has  it  any  con- 
nection at  all  with  the  marble  slab. 

I  gave  you  in  my  last,  some  account  of  a  common 
Sunday  meeting ;  these,  however,  are  tame  affairs  when 
compared  with  the  riotous  spiritual  feasts  on  the  moun- 
tain tops.  These  are  the  great  festivals  of  the  sect ; 
old  men  and  children,  young  men  and  maidens,  are 
alike  elated  with  the  idea  of  going  on  to  the  hill  top. 
All  Shakerdom  is  agog ;  the  strong  and  healthy  walk ; 
the  sick  and  feeble  brave  the  dangers  of  a  venturesome 
ride  up  the  steep  ascent. 

Before  starting,  each  person  receives  a  spiritual 
dress  of  the  most  fanciful  splendor.  A  tunic  of  scarlet, 
gorgeous  with  gold  buttons,  lace,  and  bullion,  together 
12* 


146  TAGIICOMC. 


with  a  full  dress  of  a  corresponding  magnificence, 
adorns  each  individual  of  the  procession.  All  tin-,  it 
must  be  understood,  is  entirely  spiritual,  and  visible 
only  to  gifted  eyes.  It  is,  however,  donned  with  none 
the  less  seriousness ;  artiele  by  article  it  is  taken  from 
a  visionary  chest  by  an  Elder,  and  gravely  received  by 
the  wearer,  —  while,  to  prevent  awkward  adjustments, 
twro  little  angels  stand  near,  by  way  of  valets  de  cliam- 
bre,  or  lady's  maids. 

Thus  splendidly  arrayed,  the  procession  move-  up 
the  hill  until  it  reaches  the  "  Walnut  Grove."  Here 
they  spend  some  thirty  minutes  in  preparatory  exer- 
cises, and  then-  move  on  again,  until  they  reach  the 
holy  ground,  when  each  makes  seven  low  obeisances 
and  enters  upon  it. 

These  meetings  are  designed  to  be  peculiarly  free, 
lively,  and  impressive  ;  here  the  spirit  of  the  Millennial 
Church  displays  itself  without  reserve,  and  a  special 
outpouring  of  the  spiritual  gifts  is  always  expected. 
There  is  preaching,  praying,  singing,  prophecying,  dan- 
cing, whirling,  twisting,  and  all  manner  of  contortions. 
The  chief  attractions,  however,  are  the  "  gifts," —  of 
which  I  shall  give  you  a  couple  of  specimens.  Perhaps 
a  sister  is  "  under  operations,"  and  exclaims,  "  Oh ! 
Mother  Ann  is  here,  and  sends  her  love  to  the  brothers 
and  sisters." 

"  What  is  it  like?"  asks  an  Elder. 

"Oh!  like  little  bright,  shining  balls,"  answers  the 
inspired  sister ;  and  forthwith  she  commences  tossing 
the  little  airy  nothings  among  the  crowd,  who  all  strive 
to  catch  them,  with  the  most  ludicrous  earnestness. 
Then,  perhaps,  a  brother  shouts,  "  There  is  sponge  and 


MOUNTAIN    MEETINGS.  147 

towels  in  the  fountain,  for  the  people  to  hathe ; "  and 
all  go  through  a  pantomimic  bathing,  —  much  in  the 
style  and  with  all  the  unction  of  Charlotte  Cushman, 
in  the  hand  washing  scene  in  "  Macbeth." 

At  noonday  a  great  feast  is  held.  The  anointed 
seers  go  forth  to  shake  imaginary  trees,  whence  they 
gather  invisible  oranges,  grapes,  figs,  and  all  manner  of 
delicious  fruit,  —  to  do  which  on  the  Berkshire  hills,  in 
a  backward  Spring,  one  would  say  requires  a  pretty 
vigorous  fancy.  The  anointed  pick  up  the  fruit  in  bas- 
kets, and  placing  them,  with  mutual  aid,  on  their  should- 
ers, stagger  under  the  load  to  the  invisible  tables,  where 
it  is  arrayed  with  other  delicate  viands  prepared  in  the 
same  way.  Around  the  table  are  now  placed  real  deal 
seats,  —  the  imagination,  even  after  going  through  all 
this,  not  being  strong  enough  to  sustain  two  hundred 
gross  weight  of  Shaker  saint. 

All  being  seated,  —  except  the  anointed  seers,  who 
wait  upon  the  others,  —  they  eat  and  are  filled  with 
ideal  food,  they  drink  and  are  drunken  with  ideal  wine. 
By  enlarging  the  number  of  revellers,  the  description 
of  the  Barmecide  feast,  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights  Enter- 
tainments," would  be  perfect  for  a  Shaker  feast  on  the 
Berkshire  hills. 

The  dinner  being  over,  the  revellers  are  called  upon 
to  pay  their  tithes ;  that  is :  the  gifted  ones,  being 
seated  at  the  imaginary  table,  the  others  wait  upon 
them,  while  the  same  mummery  is  gone  through  as 
before. 

With  much  more  of  this  sort  of  thing,  (lie  day  wears 
out,  and  the  performers  return  to  the  matter-of-fact 
duties  of  every  day  life. 


148  TAGHCONIC. 

I  might  give  you  pages  more  of  peculiarities  of  this 
sort,  but  with  this  brief  abstract  of  only  a  few  of  them, 
space  compels  me  to  close. 

I  beseech  you,  my  philosophical  friend,  to  consider 
well  the  phenomena  they  present. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THAT    EXCURSION    TO    GREYLOCK.* 

You  have  asked  me  to  describe  to  you  my  visit  of 
last  Summer  to  Greylock,  and  I  have  promised  to  com- 
ply with  your  request  —  but  now  that  I  have  the  paper 
before  me,  and  attempt  to  fulfil  my  promise,  I  am  sen- 
sible how  inadequate  words  of  mine  are  to  describe 
what  I  there  saw ;  and  I  can  more  fully  than  ever 
before  feel  the  truth  of  those  lines  of  Wordsworth : 


"  Ah  !  that  beauty,  varying  in  the  light 
Of  living  Nature,  cannot  be  portrayed 
By  words,  nor  by  the  pencil's  silent  skill, 
But  is  the  property  of  him  alone 
Who  halh  beheld  it,  noted  it  with  care, 
And  in  his  heart  recorded  it  with  love." 


To  all  those  who  may  read  this  letter  I  would  say  — 
go  to  Greylock,  see  it  and  commune  with  it  yourselves, 
for  no  description  can  give  you  an  idea  of  the  vast 
reality.  I  trust,  too,  that  when  you  go,  it  may  be  in 
company  with  friends  such  as  those  with  whom  it  was 
my  lot  to  visit  the  Mountain,  —  for  kindred  mind,  taste, 
and  feeling  are  essential  in  companions  viewing  together 
the  beautiful  and  grand,  —  such  companionship,  indeed, 

*  A  friend  has  kindly  favored  mc  willi  this  spirited  description  of  an  excur- 
sion to  the  most  lofty  mountain  in  Massachusetts. 


150  TAGHCONIC. 


must  at  all  times  add  greatly  to  our  enjoyment;  but 
under  no  circumstances  is  it  so  much  felt,  so  much  I 
may  say  of  a  necessity,  as  when  our  thoughts  are  ex- 
alted by  gazing  on  some  great  work  of  Nature.  And  I 
know  of  few  things  which  create  a  more  permanent 
bond  of  friendship  between  persons  of  kindred  mind, 
than  being  associated  together  at  such  times.  But  to 
my  promise.  Grey  lock  is  by  far  the  most  interesting 
of  all  the  mountains  in  our  vicinity.  It  is  the  highest, 
and  the  most  frequented,  on  account  of  the  surpassingly 
fine  view  which  its  summit  affords,  overlooking,  as  it 
does,  some  of  the  most  varied  and  beautiful  scenery  in 
the  northern  States.  Nor  must  it  be  forgotten,  in 
enumerating  the  claims  of  this  mountain  to  distinction, 
that  it  serves  as  a  sort  of  everlasting  barometer  to  the 
whole  surrounding  country,  affording,  at  all  times,  a 
sure  guide  as  to  the  prospective  state  of  the  weather. 
Seldom  does  a  pic-nic  party  set  off  in  this  region,  with- 
out first  looking  toward  old  Greylock  for  encourage- 
ment ;  and  if,  after  they  have  started,  they  see  the  clouds 
gathering  around  its  summit,  they  delay  not  to  gather 
up  their  baskets,  and  fly  with  all  speed  to  a  safe  retreat 
from  the  storm  which  they  know  is  impending.  Thus 
is  old  Grandfather  "Whitehead  consulted  by  all  the 
neighborhood,  for  information  as  to  sunshine  or  storm ; 
and  one  thus  learns  to  feel  for  him  a  sort  of  affection,  or 
rather  a  neighborly  feeling,  before  visiting  him  and 
making  his  acquaintance  on  still  more  intimate  terms. 

The  best  point  from  which  to  start  on  the  ascent  of  the 
mountain,  is  Williamstown,  though  many  choose  North 
Adams.  The  reason  for  preferring  the  former  place,  is, 
that  the  hotels  there  are   better  provided  with  civil 


EXCURSION    TO    OREYLOCK.  151 

attendants  and  intelligent  guide.-,  than  at  North  Adams. 
On  the  occasion  of  our  ascent,  most  of  the  party  went 
from  North  Adams,  and  found  much  cause  to  repent  of 
the  choice,  —  while  a  few,  who  differing  from  the  main 
body,  went  up  from  Williamstown,  fared  much  better 
than  we  did ;  and  in  the  foregoing  remarks,  therefore, 
I  merely  give  the  result  of  our  own  experience. 

The  pathway  up  the  mountain  side  is  rough,  but 
filled  with  beauty;  and  some  of  the  opening-  in  the 
woods  almost  persuade  one  that  the  days  of  fairy  gam- 
bols are  not  yet  past,  but  that  in  these  spots,  in  these 
very  rings  of  fresh,  green  grass  —  so  fresh  and  green 
that  they  seem  just  to  have  awakened  from  their 
Winter  sleep  —  the  elfin  revels  must  still  be  nightly 
held.  One  little  wild  wood  circle  I  shall  never  forget, 
formed  by  fir  trees  so  densely  shaded  with  thick  foliage 
as  to  exclude  a  single  peep  from  the  bright  face  of  Sol ; 
while  the  grass  thus  growing  was  of  a  light,  moss  color, 
of  that  peculiar  green  seldom  to  be  found,  except  in 
small  tufts,  by  a  shady  brook  side.  And  then  the 
silence  and  repose  of  the  place  had  the  effect  of  awing 
one,  as  it  were,  and  making  one  superstitious,  in  spite 
of  one's  self.  A  shout  from  our  party  in  advance  dis- 
turbed our  reveries,  and  no  doubt  put  to  flight  the  elves 
themselves,  who  were  at  that  moment  coming  to  occupy 
their  room  of  state,  —  for  I  feel  sure  that  had  we 
remained  only  a  little  while  longer,  Ave  should  have 
seen  more  than  the  pen  of  the  author  of  "  Pilgrims  of 
the  Rhine  "  has  yet  been  able  to  describe,  of  forest 
fairy  gayety. 

We  follow  the  sound  of  voices  from  our  friends 
ahead,  and  on  coming  up   to   them   are    surprised    into 


152  TAGHOONN  . 


forgetfulness  of  the  beauty  we  have  regretfully  left^  for 

here  another  scene  bursts  upon  as,  as  we  turn  a  little 
aside  from  the  pathway,  and,  like  "Aladdin,  or  the 
Wonderful  Lamp,"  we  leave  one  garden  of  enchant- 
ment only  to  enter  another  of  greater  beauty.  Oh. 
this  world  of  ours !  how  filled  it  is  with  objects  which 
elevate  and  ennoble  our  thoughts  and  affections,  —  if 
we  but  seek  for  them  where  we  ought !  Amid  God's 
works  how  sure  are  we  to  feel. 


"  O  GOD  !     0  good  beyond  compare  ! 
If  these,  Thy  meaner  works,  are  fair, — 
If  thus  Thy  bounties  gild  the  span 
Of  ruined  earth  and  sinful  man, 
How  glorious  must  the  mansions  be 
Where  Thy  redeemed  shall  dwell  with  Thee  I' 


The  sun  is  getting  low,  and  we  have  still  a  long  steep 
to  climb ;  so,  after  we  have  refreshed  ourselves  with  a 
drink  from  a  rill  of  sparkling  clear  water,  we  begin 
our  ascent  with  renewed  zest.  The  beauty  about  us 
sufficing  us  for  food,  —  for,  save  our  sup  of  Adam's  ale 
we  have  tasted  nothing  since  an  early  breakfast,  at 
starting,  —  totally  is  the  world  below  us  now  forgotten. 
Dinner  is  supplied  by  our  pass-word.  "Excelsior." 
Some  of  us  linger  to  gather  the  wild  flowers  that  are 
growing  plentifully  about  us,  and  constantly,  by  their 
beauty,  beguile  us  from  our  path ;  suddenly  we  are 
startled  by  shouts  which  echo  through  the  wood  like  the 
yells  of  the  red  men,  and  one  of  our  party,  with  the 
agility  of  a  well  trained  sailor  (as  he  was)  soon  ascends 
the  trunk  of  a  tall  tree,  and  from  a  seat  which  appears 
to  us  dangerously  insecure,  echoes  shout  for  shout,  till 
the  remaining  few  of  our  party,  who  had  come  by  way 


GREYLOCK.  153 


of  Williamstown,  make  their  appearance ;  and  as  they 
stop  to  tell  us  of  the  good  dinner  which  they  partook 
of  at  that  place,  we  begin  to  feel  a  degree  of  curiosity 
to  see  what  the  contents  of  the  baskets  with  which  they 
are  well  provided  are  ;  so,  casting  our  glance  forward, 
we  resolve  not  to  turn  to  the  right  or  left  till  we  gain 
the  mountain  top,  — 'nor  with  this  resolution  are  we 
long  in  so  doing. 

The  scene  below  us  is  somewhat  dimmed  by  an  Au- 
gust evening's  haze,  which  mellows,  though  it  circum- 
scribes, our  view,  and  adds  beauty  to  what  was  already 
too  beautiful  for  description.  Far  off  in  the  distance 
we  see  the  hills  around  our  own  home  mountains,  as  we 
call  them  there,  but  here  appearing  as  gentle  undula- 
tions, above  the  otherwise  level  surface  of  the  ground. 
Still  farther  off  and  still  more  dimly  seen,  rises  the 
range  of  the-  Kaatskills,  with  the  noble  Hudson  mir- 
rored at  their  base.  Fill  up  the  picture  with  a  fertile 
country,  dotted  with  villages  and  mountain  lakes,  and 
beautifully  interspersed  with  woodland,  and  you  have, 
if  your  imagination  is  sufficiently  vivid,  the  scene  that 
lay  before  us.  Silently  we  gaze  and  drink  in  the 
beauty  by  which  we  are  surrounded  on  all  sides,  till 
the  first  impressions  of  awe  and  wonderment  having  in 
a  measure  subsided,  sly,  furtive  glances  are  cast,  by  the 
less  romantic  of  our  party,  towards  the  baskets  which 
have  been  companions  of  our  ascent.  Soon  more  active 
measures  are  taken,  and  the  claims  of  hunger  now 
fairly  prevailing  over  us  all,  we  sit  down  to  a  supper 
which  the  gods  and  goddesses  on  Olympus  might  have 
envied.  Oh,  the  luxury  of  a  good  appetite,  and  food 
to  satisfy  it ! 

13 


154  TAGIICONIC. 


Night  is  now  coming  on,  and  nil  objects  about  us 
begin  to  have  a  shadowy,  spectral  appearance.  So  a 
large  fire  is  lighted  under  a  gianl  -tump,  and  we  gather 
about  it,  each  one  indulging,  like  Ik  Marvel,  in  his  own 
reveries.  At  length  the  moon  begins  to  rise,  and  as 
her  silver  sheen  appears  above  the  horizon,  we  grow 
eloquent,  and  her  potent  spell  brings  out  our  poetical  ftt 
well  as  romantic  thoughts.  Absent  friends  are  remem- 
bered with  a  sigh,  and  as  we  turn  to  those  next  us,  to 
share  our  thoughts,  we  feel  that  "  mind  may  act  on 
mind,  though  bodies  be  far  divided." 

The  moon,  as  if  conscious  howr  intently  we  were 
watching  her,  rose  more  majestically  than  usual,  and 
the  light  clouds,  as  they  cocpietted  about  her,  had 
more  beauty  and  assumed  more  variety  of  shape 
than  we  had  ever  before  observed  in  them.  Here  we 
sat  till  long  past  midnight,  and  so  intensely  were  we 
enjoying  the  wildness  of  the  scene  as  to  forget  that 
sleep  was  "  Nature's  kind  restorer."  But  some  of  the 
more  prudent  of  our  party  urged  us  to  seek  rest. 
Retiring,  therefore,  to  the  Tower  (a  ricketty  structure) 
on  the  mountain  top,  we  betake  ourselves  to  the  so 
called  rest,  and  a  more  ludicrous  scene  never  presented 
itself  to  my  mind,  than  that  of  our  party,  now  pre- 
pared for  sleeping  during  the  remainder  of  the  night. 
Some  sitting  upright,  against  the  sides  of  the  building : 
some  stretched  upon  the  planks  of  the  floor,  which  had 
been  raised  so  as  to  form  a  sort  of  inclined  plane  ;  some 
with  their  hats  drawn  over  their  faces ;  some  more 
careful  to  preserve  the  line  of  beauty  and  grace,  were 
drawn  up  like  a  cat  in  a  chimney  corner,  thus  exhibiting 
the  effect  of  the  double  curve  :  while  a  few,  too  merry 


NIGHT    AND    MORNING.  155 

for  sleep,  remained  standing,  lookers-on  in  this  strangely 
sorted  bed-chamber.  A  dim  liglit  from  one  candle 
served  to  render  visible  about  enough  of  each  figure  to 
distinguish  it,  and  to  throw  out  the  evident  discomfort 
of  the  sleepers,  at  resting  in  so  rude  a  place.  But 
how  absurd  it  is,  when  parties  go  on  such  wild  excur- 
sions as  this  one  was,  to  expect  reserve,  or  any  of  the 
etiquette  of  refined  life. 

The  morning  soon  dawned,  and,  to  our  great  disap- 
pointment, the  sunrise  was  obscured  by  a  heavy  mist. 
Yet  we  were  amid  the  clouds,  and  had  the  rain  poured 
down  a  deluge,  it  had  not  damped  more  than  our 
clothing,  —  for,  with  spirits  gay  as  larks,  we  ascended 
to  the  top  of  the  Tower,  so  as  to  obtain  a  better  view 
than  we  had  been  able  to  get,  on  the  preceding  evening. 
But  the  mist  continued  to  roll  along  the  valley  below, 
and  the  clouds  to  envelope  us  above,  for  some  time ; 
gradually,  like  a  dissolving  view,  the  vapory  veil  begun 
to  be  withdrawn,  and  the  sunshine  to  illuminate  and 
animate  Nature.  "Glorious!  glorious!"  resounded  on 
all  sides ;  and  glorious  indeed  was  the  scene,  as  the  sun 
suddenly  revealed  the  world  of  beauty  below  us;  — 
dense  masses  of  clouds  and  vapor,  rolling  along  and 
assuming  in  their  changes  all  forms  and  hues,  fantastic 
as  well  as  grand. 

Here  we  see  a  cathedral,  with  the  light  streaming 
through  its  colored  windows ;  there  the  Colosseum ; 
and  again  a  mass  of  cloud,  so  gloriously  gilded  by  the 
morning  rays  as  to  make  it  too  beautiful  and  grand  to 
be  compared  to  any  work  of  man,  or  earthly  object ; 
and  we  could  have  wished  to  linger  there  always, 
watching  the  Protean  changes  as  they  passed  before  us. 


156  TAGnCONIC. 


But  would  our  feelings  have  remained  as  joyous  as 
they  then  were?  The  air  seemed  truly  to  have  a 
most  exhilarating  influence;  and  could  our  temperance 
friends  have  seen  us  then,  they  might  almost  have  heen 
induced  to  frame  a  new  "  Maine  Law,"  placing  moun- 
tain air  on  the  same  footing  as  intoxicating  drinks. 
Happily,  however,  we  felt  no  ill  effects,  as  a  conse- 
quence of  this  new  phase  of  intemperance,  hut  partook 
of  a  hearty  breakfast,  with  an  appetite  and  relish  such 
as  only  mountain  air  can  give.  Our  chickens  were 
broiled  on  red-hot  stones,  a  worthy  divine  acting  as 
chief  cook  on  the  occasion ;  and  the  ashes  and  charmed 
coals  which  cling  to  them,  and  the  primitive  fashion  in 
which  we  were  obliged  to  eat  them,  only  served  to 
make  us  enjoy  the  meal  with  greater  zest  and  mirthful- 
ness. 

After  breakfast  we  began  our  journey  homewards, 
yet,  like  Lot's  wife,  casting  many  a  lingering  look 
behind, —  and  at  each  step  down  our  steep  pathway, 
losing  some  of  our  gay-heartedness ;  for  we  felt  that 
we  were  going  back  to  the  world,  with  its  iron  rule 
which  cramps  and  confines  our  best  and  purest  feelings. 
But  at  home  again,  home  comforts  about  us,  and  amid 
the  usual  routine  of  life,  we  remember  our  journey  as 
a  pleasant  pause  in  life,  a  shrine  for  memory  to  return 
and  refresh  itself  at,  when  cares  and  trials  make  us 
weary. 

Again  I  would  say,  go  to  Greylock.  "  Commune 
with  your  own  heart,  and  be  still." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ABOUT  OUR  CATTLE  SHOW. 

The  Festival  of  all  festivals,  the  two  days  for  which, 
in  the  opinion  of  our  rural  population,  all  other  days  in 
the  round  year  were  made,  are  those  of  the  Cattle 
Show  and  Fair  of  the  County  Agricultural  Society. 
This  is  the  shining  goal  of  the  year's  race.  Dreaming 
of  a  silver  cup,  or  at  least  "  honorable  mention,"  at  the 
great  anniversary,  the  farmer  tills  his  soil,  tends  his 
flocks  and  herds,  and  is  careful  for  many  things,  in  sun- 
shine and  storm.  For  the  same  momentous  occasion 
the  busy  fingers  of  his  wife  and  daughters  are  plied,  — 
while  in  the  dairy,  cleanliest  receptacles  are  filled  with 
balls  of  golden-hued  butter,  and  cylinders  of  odorous 
cheese.  In  chambers,  too,  quaintly  variegated  needle- 
works bud  and  blossom,  and  snowy  webs  issue  from  the 
antique  loom. 

Nor  do  the  taper  fingers  of  more  dainty  ladies  disdain 
to  contend  for  the  silver  spoons ;  while  retired  gentle- 
men of  fortune  take  a  notable  pride  in  the  display  of 
luscious  fruit  and  mammoth  vegetables. 

The  village  beaux  prize  the  day  as  an  occasion  for 

the  exhibition   of  superior  gallantry;   and  the  village 

magnates  aspire  to  the  offices  in  the  gift  of  the  Society 

as  no  small  distinctions   in   themselves,  and  possibly  — 

13* 


158  TAGIICONIC. 


pardon  the  suspicion  —  as  stepping-stones  to  more  sub- 
stantial honors.  Few  among  us  but  are  at  least  ama- 
teurs in  agricultural  affairs,  so  that  when  the  great 
festival  of  Ceres  approaches,  our  mountain  Microcosmos 
is  all  agog  with  excitement. 

The  country  around  is  in  a  ferment  of  preparation. 
Now  is  the  harvest  of  the  village  tailors ;  now  the 
paraphernalia  of  the  village  belles  is  cunningly  reno- 
vated ;  ah !  if  Ave  could  take  a  sly  peep  beneath  the 
arcana  of  the  fair  artificers'  hearts,  what  murderous 
designs  might  be  revealed !  I  think  I  see  them  now, 
amid  a  wilderness  of  chintz,  and  delaine,  and  calico, 
and  ribbons,  —  a  smile  in  their  eyes  and  a  blush  on 
their  cheeks,  planting  a  grace  here,  revealing  a  seducing 
luxury  there ;  sewing  a  Cupid  into  every  fold,  and  pre- 
paring a  snare  in  every  treacherous  ribbon.  Ah ! 
wicked  demoiselles ! 

Long  before  the  appointed  day,  partners  are  secured 
for  the  ride  to  town  —  not  without  coquetry,  heart 
burnings,  and,  it  may  be,  bitter  tears  in  secret  places. 
There  is  much  significance  in  this  excursion  to  the  fair ; 
it  is  our  sweet  St.  Valentines,  when  the  gay  rover  takes 
occasion  to  signify  he  shall  roam  no  more.  Then,  if 
there  chance  to  be  some  deserted  rival,  comes  the  rush 
of  hot  passions,  —  for,  with  all  the  holy  calm  we  prate 
of,  they  are  as  rife  in  the  veriest  hamlet  on  our  hills,  as 
in  any  city  of  the  land.  Let  him  who  feels  the  hot 
hand  of  passion  on  him,  thank  God  if  he  can  fly  to 
crowds  and  the  mad  whirl  of  the  city,  and  so  escape 
the  demon  —  but  tremble  if  he  alone  must  in  solitude 
combat  the  fiend,  with  the  cold  stars  above  him,  from 
which  no  angel  will  descend  to  his  aid,  and  only  the 


A    RAINY    DAY.  159 


calm  lake  near,  which  seems  to  invite  to  rest.     God 
forgive  him  if  he  seek  it  there ! 

"Well !  what  with  their  mutual  delight,  and  the  envy 
of  rivals,  the  happy  couple  are  happy,  and  you  —  if 
you  chance  to  meet  them  jogging  cosily  along  the 
road  —  do  not  smile  too  disdainfully,  but  consider, 
weddings,  and  their  interminable  line  of  consequents, 
are  likely  to  be  the  end  of  it.  Odd !  is  it  not?  Out  of 
the  rustic  amour,  at  which  the  high-bred,  high  bedi- 
zened Nothing  smiles,  come  Robert  Burns,  Oliver 
Cromwells,  Daniel  Websters,  with  all  their  mighty 
words  and  deeds. 

But  our  festival  approaches,  and  the  bustle  around 
us  is  increasing.  The  weather  gets  to  be  a  subject  of 
deep  interest;  almanacs  which  predict  "much  —  rain 
—  about  —  this  —  time,"  are  in  ill  repute.  Weather- 
wise  old  ladies,  Avho  love  to  prophecy  smooth  things, 
are  in  high  favor ;  while  all  vinegar-faced  crones  are 
looked  upon  with  a  regretful  reminiscence  of  the  good 
old  laws  against  witchcraft. 

In  the  week  preceding  the  Cattle  Show  of  the  present 
year,  more  eyes  were  turned  heavenward  than  usual  — 
without,  however,  any  extraordinary  amount  of  piety. 
There  were  alarming  portents  in  the  skies ;  an  ugly 
halo  encircled  the  moon;  mists  hung  dubiously  about 
Greylock;  fearful  things  were  told  by  the  weather- 
lochs  of  the  Taghconics  ;  the  gathering  clouds  flaunted 
angry  "  mares'  tails "  far  up  the  western  sky ;  every 
thing  foretold  a  storm,  and  the  storm  did  not  fail  to 
come. 

On  the  day  before  the  Fair  the  rain  fell  in  torrents  ; 
and  the  next  morning  dawned   dim,   dreary,  and   driz- 


1G0  TAfillCONIC. 


zling,  with  an  occasional  brisk  shower,  by  way  of  enliv- 
<  anient.  Yet  the  town  was  already  filling  up  with 
visitors.  All  the  preceding  day  yon  might  have  met 
frequent  upon  the  road  little  droves  of  fine  oxen,  beau- 
tiful Juno-eyed  cows,  and,  led  by  a  ring  in  the  nose, 
bulls  of  celebrity,  with  an  air  of  surpassing  obstinacy. 
You  might  have  passed,  as  well,  uncomfortable  looking 
muttons,  of  enormous  fleece,  packed  in  rough,  wooden 
cages ;  or,  you  might  have  stared  at  some  marvellously 
prolific  sow,  surrounded  by  her  progeny. 

"  Trigenta  capitum  foetus  enixa  jacebat ; 
Alba  solo  recubaris,  albi  circum  libera  nati." 

All  night  long  such  pastoral  processions  tramped  the 
muddy  road,  and  increased  on  the  dismal  morning  of 
the  first  of  October.  At  an  early  hour,  venerable  an- 
cestral vehicles  and  modernly  ingenious  contrivances  for 
locomotion,  of  the  oddest  possible  kinds,  began  to  dump 
down  squads  of  dripping  passengers  all  about  the 
streets.  Hardy  belles,  with  skirts  tucked  up  in  liberal 
folds,  exhibiting  something  more  than  ancles,  strode 
fearlessly  through  the  mud,  while  their  gallants  followed 
after,  with  many  a  rueful  glance  at  their  bespattered 
broadcloth.  Those  who  brought  wares  betook  them- 
selves to  the  Society's  halls,  to  superintend  their  ar- 
rangement ;  mere  pleasure  seekers  —  miserably  mis- 
taken pleasure  seekers  —  went  strolling  lugubriously 
about,  or  congregated  dismally  hi  the  steamy  parlors  of 
the  hotels. 

But  the  day  was  not  to  be  all  so  gloomy.  At  noon 
the  clouds  rolled  darkly  away  over  the  Hoosac,  and  the 
sun  burst  gloriously  forth  upon    the    drenched    earth. 


THE    CATTLE    SnOTV.  161 

Prettier  faces  and  neater  forms  began  to  appear  among 
the  crowd,  and,  now  and  then,  a  dashing  equipage, 
warmed  out  by  the  sun  like  a  butterfly,  rolled  along  the 
street.  "We  followed  the  living  current  to  the  centre 
of  attraction,  —  the  show  of  cattle,  —  where,  stationed 
around  a  large  field,  we  found  our  four-footed  friends 
of  the  road  ruminating  as  composedly  as  if  in  their 
native  pastures.  The  equanimity  with  which  they  re- 
ceived alike  the  criticisms  and  encomiums  of  visitors, 
was  matter  for  our  especial  admiration.  One  would 
wish  to  divine,  from  their  quiet  and  meditative  air, 
what  they  thought  of  all  the  pother  about  them. 

The  nice  points  of  the  juries  of  award  were  about 
as  intelligible  to  us  as  the  jargon  of  a  Shaker  psalm  ; 
nevertheless,  we  ignorantly  admired  the  sturdy  forms 
and  brawny  necks  of  the  bulls,  the  distended  udders  of 
"  the  milky  mothers  of  the  herd,"  and  were  duly  aston- 
ished at  the  marvellous  obesity  of  the  swine.  The 
lithe  limbs  and  glossy  arched  neck  of  a  splendid  stal- 
lion, gave  occasion  to  my  companion  to  indulge  in  a 
series  of  poetic  rhapsodies,  after  the  manner  of  Job, — 
to  which  I  listened  in  more  humble  imitation  of  the 
same  patient  patriarch,  although,  truth  to  confess,  my 
own  imagination  was  totally  absorbed  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  certain  delicate  suckling  pigs,  that  were  pictured 
vividly  to  my  fancy,  at  the  culminating  point  of  their 
brief  existence,  with  a  lemon  in  each  mouth  and  other 
appropriate  surroundings.  It  was  evidently  time  to 
dine. 


1G2  TAGIICONIC. 


SECOND      DAY. 

On  the  bright  and  beautiful  morning  of  the  second 
day  of  the  Fair,  we  again  sallied  forth,  in  search  of 
adventures.  The  streets  were  densely  thronged  with 
all  sorts  of  people,  seemingly  like  ourselves,  with  no 
very  definite  notion  of  what  they  were  after;  — 

"  Like  a  flock  of  sheep, 
Not  knowing  and  not  caring  «  hither 
They  come  or  go  —  so  that  they  fool  together." 

My  memory  is  mazed  with  the  recollection  of  that 
motley  crowd.  The  representative  from  Peachem,  with 
gingerbread  under  one  arm  and  "  umberell "  under  the 
other,  jostled  the  gloved  and  caned  exquisite  from 
Broadway ;  and  the  traveller  who  could  contrast  this 
with  the  great  fairs  of  Europe  was  favored  with  the 
opinion  of  the  youth  whose  eyes  had  hardly  peeped 
over  the  Berkshire  hills.  Here  and  there,  men  famous, 
the  world  over,  in  politics  and  literature,  went  about 
moralizing,  perhaps,  —  or,  more  likely,  watching  that 
most  animated  part  of  the  scene, 

"  The  lassies  with  sly  eyes, 
And  the  smile  settling  in  their  sunflecked  checks, 
Like  noon  upon  the  mellow  apricot." 

Oh,  those  sly-eyed  lassies !  There  was  one  of  them, 
—  a  most  fairy -like  creature,  with  such  a  delicate  and 
taper  waist,  with  such  a  foot  and  ancle,  with  such  an 
aristocratic  face  and  air,  as  would  have  furnished  Willis 
a  model  for  a  dozen  countesses.  I  set  the  owner  down 
in  my  own  mind  as  the  daughter  of  some  village  cler- 
gyman,  or   at   the   very  least,   of  the  'Squire,  —  and 


THE    COUNTRY   LASSIE.  163 

lingered  near,  hoping  some  one  miglit  pass  who  could 
present  me ;  or  if  that  failed,  that  I  might  catch  some 
silvery  syllables  from  those  lips  that  curled  so  like  a 
red  rose  leaf,  —  for  I  confess  to  having  been  a  little, 
just  a  little  "  struck."  But  no  one  seemed  to  know 
her,  and  for  a  wonder  she  kept  silent. 

But  at  length  she  spoke.  Ye  gods  !  such  words  !  — 
Turning  to  a  friend,  she  exclaimed,  —  shall  I  repeat  it? 

"  I  say,  Sail ;  d'  ye  'spose  Jim 's  sold  all  that  cider 
o'  his'n  ?      Goll  darn  him  !  " 

Do  you  recollect  the  scene  in  "  Faust,"  where  the 
hero  was  so  much  disgusted  with  his  fair  partner, 
because  — 


'A  red  mouse,  in  the  middle  of  her  singing, 
Sprang  from  her  mouth." 


And  how  Mephistophiles  replied, — 


"  That  was  all  right,  my  friend, 
Be  it  enough  the  mouse  was  not  grey ; 
Do  not  disturb  your  hour  of  happiness 
With  close  consideration  of  such  trifles.' 


My  mouse  was  grey,  and  no  trifle  at  all.  Think  of 
it ;  that  odious  sentence  leaping  out  of  the  prettiest 
little  mouth  in  the  world,  and  suddenly  putting  an  end 
to  a  full  half  hour  of  wasted  affection  !  I  wish  I  knew 
the  name  of  my  charmer ;  I  am  sure  it  would  be  a 
talisman  against  all  such  spells  in  the  future. 

But  to  return  to  our  motley  crowd,  through  whom, 
by  dint  of  determination  we  pressed  our  way  and  took 
our  stand  upon  an  open  common,  near  the  Railroad 
Depot,     Here    booths,    stalls,    tents,    merry-go-rounds. 


1G4  TAGHCOXIC. 


and  rarce  shows  had  sprung  up  in  the  night,  like  so 
many  mushrooms.  Babel  and  Vanity  Fair]  Such  a 
discord  of  tongues  and  chaos  of  merchandise  one  does 
not  often  meet.  It  seemed  all  the  pedlars,  from  Quoddy 
head  to  Byram  river,  had  met  in  convention.  So  many 
shining,  twinkling  eyes,  oily  tongues,  nasal  twangs, 
"  tews,"  "  dews,"  and  "  yeous  "  I  did  not  believe  could 
be  concentrated  on  one  little  acre  of  ground.  If  you 
think  "Sam  Slick"  a  caricature,  I  beg  you  will  visit 
this  common  at  our  next  cattle  show.  But,  on  second 
thoughts,  if  you  are  over  sensitive  about  your  nerves  or 
your  pocket  you  were  better  away ;  for,  escaping  from  a 
vender  of  Shakspeare,  Milton,  and  "Venus  in  Boston," 
you  are  beset  by  a  villainous  smelling  compound,  known 
—  on  this  occasion  only  —  as  "oyster  stew;"  flying 
thence,  as  for  your  life,  you  fall  upon  the  razor-strop 
man,  and  finally,  having  run  the  gauntlet  of  pedlars, 
showmen,  and  auctioneers,  you  take  desperate  refuge  in 
the  jaws  of  some  gigantic  show-tent  —  as  we  did  in  one 
where,  a  stupendous  hand-bill  informed  us,  could  be 
seen  all  the  notabilities  of  the  day. 

A  "  York  shilling "  procured  us  the  entree  and  an 
introduction  to  a  waxen  crowd  of  horrors  and  heroes, 
very  distinguishable,  the  one  from  the  other,  by  the 
aid  of  labels. 

Coming  from  the  showman's  tent  with  the  delightful 
consciousness  of  a  well-spent  shilling,  we  found  the 
people  moving  towards  the  scene  of  the  ploughing 
match,  which  was  to  take  place  on  a  field  some  two 
miles  distant.  This  is  the  most  exciting  part  of  the  fes- 
tival ;  the  scene  has  all  the  interest  of  the  race  ground. 
Upon  this  arena  the  strength  and  training  of  the  best 


RALPH,    THE    FARMER.  165 

cattle  in  the  county  are  tested,  and  the  skill  and  cool- 
ness of  the  flower  of  our  ploughmen  are  displayed, 
before  dames  whose  favor  is  quite  as  well  worth  win- 
ning as  that  of  any  who  ever,  in  chivalric  tournament, 
inspired  blood  guiltiness.  The  scene  of  the  contest  is 
very  brilliant  and  imposing,  yet  this  year  we  did  not  go 
to  witness  it ;  but  while  it  was  passing,  preferred  to 
listen  to  a  little  story  of  simple  and  unhappy  love, 
which  happened  in  connection  with  one  of  these  plough- 
ing matches,  many  years  ago. 

Ualpl),  ii)e  .farmer. 

In  a  sunny  nook,  among  the  hills  of  a  neighboring 
town,  lived,  many  years  ago,  a  young  farmer,  "the 
only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  a  widow."  His  patri- 
mony was  small,  but  admirably  cultivated.  In  the 
whole  valley  was  no  better  husbandman  than  he  ;  and 
you  looked  in  vain  for  greener  fields,  tidier  barns,  and 
sleeker  cattle,  than  those  which  called  him  owner.  The 
little  brown  cottage  under  the  elms  was  the  envy  of  all 
romantic  travellers  who  passed  that  way. 

It  was  indeed  a  pretty  cottage ;  any  kindly,  loving, 
simple  people  could  have  lived  there,  as  did  the  widow 
and  her  son,  very  happily.  Not  that  Ralph  —  that  was 
the  son  —  did  not  think  it  at  times  a  little  lonely ;  but 
then  it  was  not  with  that  desolate  solitude  which  now 
pervades  the  spot,  but  with  a  half  pleasant  loneliness, 
sweetly  suggestive  of  future  companionship.  No  bach- 
elor is  half  so  incomplete  a  being  as  your  farmer ;  no 
young  man  half  so  matrimonial.  Invariably  the  first 
thing  he  does,  upon  coming  into  possession  of  himself, 
14 


1GG  TAGIICONIC. 


upon  his  twenty-first  birth-day,  is  to  look  around  —  if, 
indeed,  he  has  not  already  done  so  —  for  some  fair 
hands  into  which  he  may  at  once  surrender  his  new 
and  uneasy  freedom.  A  true  farmer  makes  the  best 
lover  in  the  world,  and  a  still  better  husband.  I  men- 
tion this  for  the  benefit  of  any  young  lady  who  may,  at 
the  present  reading,  be  balancing  in  her  heart  a  whole 
souled  man  against  stiff  dickeys  and  patent  leather 
boots. 

Ralph  was  no  exception  to  the  general  rule,  but 
rather  a  notable  example  of  it.  His  great,  earnest, 
warm  heart  was  from  childhood  continually  seeking  out 
something  on  which  to  bestow  its  exuberant  love. 
There  was  not  a  human  being  about  but  had  a  corner 
in  his  affection ;  not  an  animal,  a  tree,  a  flower,  nor 
shrub,  upon  his  farm,  but  his  soul  twined  itself  around 
it.  His  heart  even  yearned  towards  the  grey  rocks, 
and  he  never  cut  down  the  bright  flowered  thistle  with- 
out a  sigh. 

No  wonder  that  when  Ralph  came  to  the  district 
school  he  should  feel  a  kindly  thrill  toward  the  rosy 
cheeked  little  maidens  upon  the  opposite  benches.  It 
was  chai-acteristic  of  Ralph,  that,  whatever  was  beau- 
tiful to  the  eye,  his  soul  yearned  towards  it  with  a 
devotion  that  would  perceive  no  inward  defect.  His 
old  teacher  said,  years  afterwards,  that  he  would  sit  for 
hours  watching  the  piles  of  golden  clouds  in  the  west ; 
and  that  he  cared  more  for  the  green  and  golden  streaks 
upon  an  apple  than  for  its  melting  flavor.  It  was 
an  unfortunate  omen,  that  no  poisonous  flower  was 
shunned  by  him,  if  only  its  hues  were  fair  and  silken. 

When  Ralph  finally  fixed  his  heart  upon  one  object, 


RALPH   IN   LOVE.  167 

he  was  guided  by  this  same  fatal  love  of  beauty.  It 
chanced  that  just  across  the  little  valley  stood  the  man- 
sion of  the  great  farmer  —  the  colossal  rich  man  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  was  always  addressed  as  the 
"  'Squire,"  and,  moreover,  by  service  in  the  councils  of 
the  Commonwealth,  had  obtained  a  right  to  the  prefix 
of  "  Hon."  to  his  name,  upon  newspapers,  letters,  pub. 
docs.,  and  all  post-office  matter  whatever.  This  gen- 
tleman had  a  daughter  —  one  of  those  marvels  of 
beauty  which  now  and  then  electrify  a  county.  The 
wrinkled  gossips,  who  were  fair  and  young  with  her  — 
whose  bosoms  were  full  and  white  when  they  used  to 
thrill  with  envy,  to  hear  her  praises  —  these  gossips,  so 
old  and  withered  now,  so  young  and  glowing  then, 
speak,  even  at  this  day,  of  the  charms  of  Maria  with 
an  exaggeration  of  praise  which  reminds  one  of  the 
hyperboles  in  which  the  old  poets  describe  their  mis- 
tresses. The  imagination  strives,  painfully,  to  lift  the 
curtain  of  faded  years  to  look  upon  her  loveliness. 
But  the  tide  of  time  reveals  only,  now  and  then,  a  fitful 
gleam ;  as  the  water,  stilled  for  a  moment,  might  reveal 
the  placid  countenance  of  the  drowned  maiden  beneath, 
and  then  again  distort  it  with  its  ripples.  Yet,  even 
so,  we  feel  something  of  the  beauty  which  moved  our 
grandsires. 

That  Ralph  should  fall  madly  in  love  with  such  a 
being,  was  as  natural  as  that  his  fruit  should  ripen 
when  the  sun  shone  upon  it.  Looking  upon  the  matter 
lightly,  there  was  no  prudential  reason  why  he  should 
not.  The  lady  was  rich,  beautiful,  and  virtuous.  The 
father,  "for  all  his  greatness,"  was  a  bluff,  hearty, 
generous  old  man,  with  a  determined  liking  for  Ralph, 


168  TAGncoxic. 


which  put  all  opposition  from  that  quarter  out  of  the 
question.  Indeed,  as  it  afterwards  turned  out,  he  had 
set  his  heart  upon  having  Ralph  for  a  son-in-law. 
Maria  smiled  quite  as  sweetly  upon  her  suitor  as  even 
a  loving  woman  should.  It  would  have  heen  strange, 
had  not  the  tongue  of  envy  whispered  that  she  was 
doing  quite  her  share  of  the  wooing ;  indeed,  I  think  I 
have  heard  that  shrivelled  slander  hissed  hy  thin  and 
bloodless  lips,  that,  perhaps,  had  breathed  it  in  their 
days  of  cherry  ripeness. 

The  engagement  was  looked  upon  as  a  settled  thing, 
by  all  the  world,  —  that  is,  by  the  half  hundred  fami- 
lies who  formed  the  hamlet.  "Worldly  prudence  and 
true  affection,  for  once  combined,  it  really  seemed  as 
though  the  course  of  true  love  had  at  last  got  into  a 
smooth  channel. 

Doubt  all  facts  which  contravene  the  philosophy  of 
Shakspeare  and  the  ages !  You  must  have  known 
women  with  a  wealth  of  loving,  melting  smiles  at  per- 
fect command,  that  look  so  natural  and  heart-born 
you  would  sooner  doubt  your  own  senses  than  their 
truth ;  with  an  eye  which  holds  you  in  a  spell  you 
would  rather  perish  of  your  faith  than  break.  You 
must  have  met  such  —  everybody  does  —  though  you 
could  not  comprehend  them,  could  not,  by  any  analysis, 
separate  the  fair  show  from  the  ugly  reality.  "We  call 
such,  with  as  much  truth  as  triteness,  "fascinating." 
Heaven  be  your  help  if  you  ever  feel  their  power  upon 
you  !  — You  were  better  in  the  grasp  of  the  wild  Devil ! 

Yet  under  such  fascination  was  Ealph  ;  such  terrible 
power  had  Maria,  —  although  she  was  probably  uncon- 
scious of  it,  when  she  first  began  to  wind  her  meshes, 


MAKIA.  169 

like  the  coils  of  a  beautiful  serpent,  around  the  heart  of 
our  poor  Ralph  —  alas!  too  happy  to  be  so  enfolded. 
It  is  not  unlikely  she  deemed  she  was  employing  only 
the  innocent  arts  by  which  a  maiden  seeks  to  obtain  a 
lover,  and  thought  that  by  and  bye  she  would  settle 
down  into  a  quiet,  staid  little  wife.  But  flattery  had 
already  begun  to  do  its  work  in  her  bosom ;  vanity 
surely,  and  not  slowly,  was  becoming  the  moving  spring, 
the  living  principle  of  her  existence.  In  most  girls  it 
would  have  been  content  to  display  itself  in  some 
knackeries  of  dress,  some  prettiness  of  accomplishment, 
or  at  most,  in  some  teasing  of  their  lovers,  to  show 
their  power  over  them.  But  Maria  was  not  an  ordi- 
nary girl;  she  had  genius  —  I  might  better  say  a 
demon  —  in  her. 

Daily  and  systematically  she  displayed  her  real 
power  over,  and  her  feigned  contempt  for,  her  lover,  — 
while  she  continued  to  bind  him  yet  closer  to  her.  I 
do  not  know  that  she  deliberately  determined  to  con- 
tinue this  course  for  months,  but  she  found  her  daily 
pleasure  in  it,  and  had  too  little  virtue  ever  to  bring 
the  day  of  reform  nearer  than  to-morrow.  Ah !  if 
none  did  evil  but  those  who  resolved  to  lead  a  life  of 
sin,  this  would  be  a  pure  world  of  ours.  It  is  the  day 
laborers  in  Satan's  vineyard  who  do  the  work. 

All  the  village  —  except  the  unsuspecting  Ralph  and 
the  'Squire  —  were  familiar  with  the  character  of  Ma- 
ria. The  village  dames,  firm  friends  of  Ralph,  shook 
their  heads  sadly,  and  prophecied  that  no  good  would 
ever  come  of  such  a  wooing ;  the  young  men  murmured 
indignantly  that  the  frankest  and  best  heart  among 
them  was  the  victim  of  a  selfish  coquette ;  even  the 
14* 


170  TAGHCOXIC 


minister,  who  for  many  years  had  taken  a  genial  interest 
in  the  loves  of  his  parishioners,  took  Maria  seriously  to 
task,  for  her  sinful  follies  ;  hut  in  vain. 

Matters  went  on  in  this  way  until  the  Fall,  whea 
Maria's  brilliant  attractions  procured  her  an  invitation 
to  pass  the  Winter  in  the  city,  with  Mrs.  N.,  a  relative, 
who  wished  a  country  beauty,  to  add  piquancy  to  her 
soirees.  The  young  people  parted  as  lovers  part,  with 
some  tears,  some  pretty  protestations,  and  probably  a 
few  or  more  kisses,  —  such  is  the  custom,  I  am  told. 

Months  passed  away  —  weary,  anxious  months  for 
Ralph ;  for  the  post  brought  few  letters  from  Albany, 
while  scandal  whispered  many  unwelcome  rumors  of 
Maria's  course  of  life  there.  Indeed,  to  let  pass  other 
matters,  one  cannot  imagine  a  society  better  fitted  to 
foster  her  darling  vice  of  vanity,  than  that  which 
thronged  the  gay  saloons  of  the  dashing  Mrs.  N. ;  the 
more  so,  when  we  remember  that  the  giddy  girl  was 
set  up  there  for  the  sole  purpose  of  receiving  the  scent- 
less incense  of  fashionable  homage. 

But  the  Spring  came,  and  with  it  Maria's  return  to 
the  country.  The  lovers  —  shall  I  still  call  them  so? — 
met ;  met  as  they  had  parted,  for  one  had  the  same 
ready  smile,  and  the  other  the  same  confiding  heart. 

It  was  a  delicious  Summer  evening  —  one  of  those 
twilights  when  the  good  God  pours  out  his  love  visibly 
over  the  earth,  and  siunmons  yours  to  meet  it ;  when 
you  send  forth  that  love,  unmindful  that  it  can  anywhere 
meet  that  which  shall  turn  its  sweetness  to  gall ;  when, 
if  by  chance,  you  think  of  sin  and  hatred  and  sorrow, 
it  is  as  of  things  pertaining  to  another  sphere,  with  pity 


a  coquette's  whim.  171 


for  whose  inhabitants  your  heart  is  yet  more  softened. 
It  was  on  such  an  evening  as  this,  that  Ralph  spoke  of 
his  loves,  his  hopes,  —  hardly  of  his  fears  ;  how  should 
he,  in  such  a  world  of  hope  ? 

That  was  an  hour  for  a  true  woman's  nature  to  dis- 
play itself.  Had  she  buried  herself  in  the  ashes  of 
coquetry ;  had  she  been  wandering  in  a  maze  of  fash- 
ionable flirtations  ;  had  she  wrapt  herself  in  affectations 
as  in  a  garment, —  now  was  the  hour  to  cast  off  the 
delusive  shows  and  appear  in  native  truth. 

Ralph,  in  the  deceitful  light  of  that  smile  and  that 
hour,  expected  a  full  outgushing  of  returned  affection. 
There  he  was  wrong  —  that  he  had  no  right  to  de- 
mand—  although,  after  the  parting  and  meeting  kisses, 
it  was,  after  all,  not  unnatural  that  an  unsophisticated 
young  man  should  have  been  led  into  error  on  that 
point.  What  he  was  entitled  to,  in  default  of  the 
other,  was  a  plain,  kind,  unmistakable  rejection.  He 
received  neither ;  plainness  was  neither  in  Maria's 
nature  nor  her  purposes.  She  smiled,  more  sweetly 
than  ever ;  looked  all  a  lover  could  ask,  "  But  really  she 
had  not  thought  of  how  far  this  matter  should  be 
carried  ;  she  had  been  content  with  enjoying  the  pas- 
sing hour  of  innocent  love"  —  here  she  smiled  yet 
more  sweetly  — "  but  its  present  joys  had  been  too 
seducing  to  allow  a  thought  for  the  future ; "  and  much 
more  sentimental  falsehood  of  the  same  kind. 

Both  were  silent  for  a  few  moments,  when  Maria,  as 
if  struck  with  a  new  thought,  exclaimed :  "  You  know 
how  much  my  father  admires  your  skill  as  a  farmer  — 
I,  too,  am  not  insensible  to  it;  carry  off  the  lir.-t  prize 
at  the  next  ploughing  match,  and  I  will  be  yours." 


172  TAcncoxic. 


A  strange  condition  this  seemed  to  Ralph,  and  a  poor 
return  for  long  years  of  affection,  bestowed  as  unre- 
servedly as  his  had  been ;  but  lie  was  too  proud  to 
remonstrate,  and,  perhaps,  too  much  enamoured  to 
refuse  the  challenge.  But  we  may  ask.  was  this  a 
maidenly  device  to  cover  the  surrender  of  a  heart 
already  won  ?  "Was  it  a  freak  of  ill-digested  romance, 
or  a  plan  to  minister  to  a  woman's  vanity  ?  We  may 
hereafter  see. 

September  came,  and  with  it  Mrs.  N.  came  to  visit 
the  "  Squire,"  and  to  attend  the  "  cattle  show."  At  the 
same  time,  two  or  three  young  men  from  the  city  took 
up  their  quarters  at  the  hotel  of  the  neighboring  town, 
to  the  great  profit  of  the  livery  stable  and  the  bar. 
Their  jaunty  vehicles  were  seen  daily  at  the  gate  of  the 
old  farmer,  to  his  not  small  annoyance  ;  and  the  villagers 
thought  the  noises  they  raised,  on  their  late  return  to 
town,  were  not  a  little  disreputable. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  contest  came.  Ralph  drove 
his  team  confidently  upon  the  field,  and  looked  anxiously 
around  the  crowd  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  mistress. 
She  was  not  with  her  father,  in  the  old  fashioned  family 
coach ;  but,  after  a  weary  search,  his  eye  found  her 
seated  in  one  of  those  jaunty  vehicles  which  he  so  cor- 
dially detested,  and  by  the  side  of  one  of  those  dandies 
whom  he  detested  still  more.  A  pang  of  jealousy  for 
a  moment  shot  through  his  heart ;  —  it  would  have 
been  sharper  could  he  have  heard  the  bitter  jest  she  at 
that  moment  bestowed  upon  her  "  barn-yard  knight." 
But  the  signal  for  the  contest  was  given,  and  Ralph 
was  at  once  absorbed  in  its  excitement.  I  have  not 
space  to  describe  it ;  enough,  that  Ralph  won,  and.  re- 


THE  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT.  173 

ceiving  bis  prize,  set  off  at  once  in  search  of  his  mis- 
tress —  as  he,  in  the  honest  simplicity  of  his  heart  sup- 
posed —  of  his  affianced  wife. 

The  end  of  our  little  story  will  not  seem  improbable, 
to  those  who  know,  as  I  do,  the  tender,  proud,  but  sen- 
sitive hearts,  which  beat  under  the  broad  breasts  of  our 
mountain  farmers.  "With  imaginations  nurtured  among 
the  most  romantic  scenes  of  Nature,  —  often  by  famil- 
iarity with  the  most  touching  works  of  genius,  their 
love  often  approaches  the  highest  poetic  ideal, —  almost 
always  transcends  the  conventional  bounds  of  city 
"  affairs."  Such,  at  least,  was  that  of  our  friend  Ralph, 
whom  we  left  in  eager  pursuit  of  his  mistress. 

That  evening  the  widow  was  sitting  by  the  table, 
upon  which  the  evening  meal  was  placed  in  readiness  ; 
sometimes  casting  a  glance,  from  the  window,  down  the 
road,  and  at  intervals  bursting  into  a  hymn  as  cheerful 
as  that  of  the  kettle  that  sung  cheerily  over  the  fire. 
"  It  is  getting  late,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  Ralph  is  late, 
to-night;  he  must  have  stopped  at  the  'Squire's.  Ah, 
he  stops  long.  "Well,  well,  never  mind,  it  will  not  be 
so,  by  and  bye ; "  and  again  the  good  mother  smiled 
cheerfully,  —  for  the  widow  was  much  given  to  a  cheer- 
ful smile,  and  a  word  in  her  own  ear,  when  alone. 

"  Hark ! "  she  continued,  still  to  herself,  "  there 's  a 
step  upon  the  stoop,  but  it  cannot  be  Ralph's."  The 
widow  knew  the  firm,  strong,  elastic  tread  of  her  son, 
as  well  as  she  did  his  open,  manly  countenance.  No ; 
this  could  not  be  his,  for  it  was  a  halting,  aimless  gait, 
dragging  itself  along,  with  a  clumsy  and  uncertain  pur- 
pose. And  yet,  when  the  door  opened,  it  was  Ralph 
who  entered.     Still,  it  hardly  seemed  him,  —  so  spirit- 


174  TAGnCONIC. 


less,  with  that  wandering,  lacklustre  eye,  that  vapid  air, 
those  graceless,  listless  limbs,  and  not  a  word  for  his 
mother. 

"  Ralph  !  Ralph ! "  she  exclaimed,  springing  towards 
him,  "  you  are  ill !  "What  ails  you  ?  "What  has  hap- 
pened ?  You  have  worked  too  hard  in  this  strife.  You 
have  lost  the  prize  ? ...  It  was  cruel ;  but  no  matter, 
Miss  Maria  will  love  you  as  well  without  it.  Ralph ! 
Ralph  !  why  don  't  you  speak  ?  " 

"Miss  Maria  can't  love  Ralph,"  he  replied,  in  a 
drawling,  idiotic  tone ;  "  Ralph  is  only  a  poor  clod- 
hopper." 

"We  leave  the  distracted  mother  to  be  driven  slowly 
to  the  knowledge  that  her  noble-hearted,  high-minded 
boy  had  become  a  brain-sick  idiot. 

Ralph  had,  after  long  search,  found  Maria  at  the 
hotel,  where  her  gay  friends  were  rallying  her  on  her 
promise  to  Ralph,  —  playfully  insisting  that  she  was 
now  in  honor  bound  to  marry  him.  Ralph  entered  the 
room  just  in  time  to  hear  the  reply,  in  an  irritated  tone  : 

"  Marry  him !  —  No.  Sooner  one  of  the  steers  he 
drives,  than  the  awkward  clodhopper  ! " 

It  was  more  than  enough. 

The  good  old  'Squire  insisted  on  taking  Ralph  and 
his  mother  to  his  own  home,  where  the  latter  soon  died. 
It  would  have  been  cruel  to  confine  the  harmless  im- 
becile within  walls,  and  he  was  permitted  to  wander 
from  house  to  house,  among  the  hills,  always  meeting  a 
kind  welcome  at  the  hearths  of  the  pitying  farmers ; 
but  he  only  muttered,  continually,  "  Poor  Ralph  is  only 
a  clodhopper ;  Miss  Maria  can 't  marry  a  clodhopper." 


THE  DESOLATE  COTTAGE.  175 

Maria,  learning  the  terrible  result  of  her  trifling,  and 
fearing  to  meet  the  wrath  of  her  father,  consented  to 
fly  to  the  city  with  the  young  man  who  had  been  her 
companion  for  the  day.  Little  was  afterwards  known 
of  her,  in  her  native  village.  "When,  a  few  years  after- 
wards, her  father  died,  a  lawyer  from  Pittsfield  claimed 
his  estate  in  her  name,  and  it  was  sold.  At  a  yet  later 
day,  there  came  a  vague  rumor  that  she  was  the  wife 
of  a  great  East  India  merchant,  in  New  York,  and 
lived  surrounded  by  luxury.  Mansions,  servants,  and 
equipages  ministered  to  that  vanity  which  in  youth  had 
demanded  a  sacrifice  —  alas,  how  much  more  costly ! 
But  no  certain  news  came  of  her,  and  she  never  revis- 
ited the  scenes  of  her  youthful  triumphs.  Sometimes 
her  name  was  there  mentioned,  and  her  story  repeated, 
but  year  by  year  it  grew  less  familiar,  until  now  only  a 
few  decrepit  dwellers  in  the  past,  love  to  recount  it  to 
a  patient  listener  to  such  old  tales,  like  myself.  Cer- 
tain I  am,  that,  although  some  of  my  old  friends  have 
found  the  battle  of  life  a  hard  combat,  not  one  of  them 
would  exchange,  for  a  moment,  her  bitter  struggle  with 
want  and  labor,  for  all  the  memory  encumbered  splen- 
dor of  her  ancient  rival. 

I  lately  visited  the  place  where  the  cottage  of  Ralph 
once  stood.  It  was  entirely  desolate.  The  lightnings 
had  blasted  even  the  feathery  elm  which  used  to  over- 
hang it ;  and  it  was  bleached  white,  in  the  mountain 
storms.  Of  the  garden,  only  a  single  rose-tree  re- 
mained, growing  rank  with  leaves  and  cankered  blos- 
soms. Was  it  too  fanciful  to  believe  that  Nature  had 
left  them  there  —  that  tree  and  rose  —  memorials,  the 


176  TAGncoxic. 


one  of  the  blighted  manliness  of  the  lover,  the  other  of 
the  cankered  prosperity  of  the  coquette  ? 

So  ran  the  little  story  to  which  we  listened,  while 
the  Ploughing  Match  of  1851  was  passing.  "When  it 
was  ended,  we  proceeded  to  the  hall,  where  the  pro- 
ducts of  the  orchard,  the  garden,  the  dairy,  and  the 
household  manufactory,  were  collected.  Here  we  found 
the  most  delicious  fruits,  —  trophies  won  in  hard  com- 
bat with  the  Frost  King,  and  carefully  defended  from 
the  raids  Avhich  "Winter,  with  all  his  hosts,  makes  over 
the  borders  of  Spring.  Here,  also,  were  great  tubs  of 
butter,  and  cheese,  for  which  epicures,  with  gloating 
eyes,  were  zealously  contending ;  and  here  were  quilts, 
of  every  variety  of  quaint  pattern  and  embroidery, 
resplendent  with  rich  colors.  "Whatever  Berkshire 
earth  could  be  tortured  into  yielding;  and  whatever 
the  skill  and  taste  of  Berkshire  women  could  'create, 
was  there.  Here,  again,  the  matrimonial  disposition  of 
our  people  appeared ;  the  handsomest  quilts  were  la- 
belled "  wedding  quilts  ; "  the  prettiest  caps  were  "  wed- 
ding night-caps,"  which,  —  alas,  that  this  and  that 
should  come  together!  —  were  significantly  pinned  to 
some  very  handsome  home-made  cradles. 

But,  after  all,  the  crowd  of  people  was  the  thing  best 
worth  one's  notice.  Once  among  them,  individuality 
was  not  to  be  dreamed  of;  it  was  the  very  height  of 
presumption  to  consider  your  legs,  arms,  or  even  your 
head,  as  pertaining  with  any  more  propriety  to  yourself 
than  to  your  neighbor ;  —  all  were  merged  in  one  com- 
monweal, or  better,  in  one  common  woe.     And  then  if, 


THE    CROWD.  177 


by  accident  the  mass  was  brought  to  a  stand,  the  crash 
of  bones,  stay-lacings,  watch  crystals,  and  like  tangi- 
bles, was  really  frightful.  Nothing  but  a  chivalric 
sense  of  duty  could  have  induced  me  to  go  through  the 
entire  exhibition. 


15 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

WHAT      THEY      DO      AT      OTIS. 

BT    A    LADY    OF    BOSTON. 

"When  we  left  you,  at  the  Stockbridge  House,  there 
was  a  sort  of  half  promise  on  my  part,  of  sending  you 
a  weekly  epistle,  recording  all  my  goings  and  comings, 
seeings  and  hearings.  I  wonder,  now,  how  I  ever  came 
to  agree  to  such  a  thing ;  it  must  have  been  the  work 
of  feelings  softened  by  a  parting  "  good  bye  ! "  to  my 
ever  delightful  Cousin  George.  The  truth  is,  it  would 
take  a  whole  fortnight  of  Otis  to  fill  a  sheet  of  lady 
like  paper  ;  but  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do,  —  writing  a 
little,  daily,  I  '11  send  you  when  we  leave  here  the 
whole,  "  at  one  fell  swoop." 

I  am  sorry  you  did  not  come  with  us  to  this  quiet 
little  place,  although  you  pretended  to  be  ignorant  of 
its  very  existence.  Our  gentlemen  say,  trout  is  very 
abundant  in  the  streams,  and  pickerel  in  the  lakes. 
They  go  out  soon  after  breakfast,  with  guns  and  fishing 
rods,  and  usually  come  home  laden  with  spoil. 

But  here  I  ought  to  give  you  some  idea  of  our 
whereabout.  I  am  now  in  Sister  M.'s  room,  which  is 
the  best  in  the  house,  as  is  right  and  proper.  Through 
three  windows,  all  in  a  row,  the  bright  afternoon  sun  is 
shining,  making,  if  possible,  more  bright  the  red  and 


oris.  179 

orange  of  the  carpet,  the  red  and  green  of  the  hed 
curtains,  and  the  yellow  and  green  of  the  furniture 
generally,  which,  as  you  see,  is  all  very  gay.  From 
these  same  windows  may  be  seen  the  whole  village. 
The  street,  with  its  two  churches  standing  vis-a-vis; 
the  school  house,  the  lawyer's  little  white  office  and 
pretty  dwelling  house ;  the  store  just  opposite,  and  a 
little  lower  down  the  post-office  and  blacksmith's  shop ; 
a  number  of  neat  cottages,  and  a  few  more  aspiring 
mansions. 

Just  back  of  the  church,  on  the  hill  side,  is  the 
village  burying  ground,  close  by  the  "  Doctor's  "  house, 
as  it  should  be. 

From  my  window,  at  the  back  of  the  building,  I  see 
a  narrow  strip  of  meadow,  through  which  winds  a  noisy 
little  river,  that  somewhere  beyond  my  ken  "turns  a 
mill,"  but  whether  for  the  sawing  of  boards  or  grinding 
of  wheat,  I  cannot  say.  Then  there  is  a  small  pond, 
covered  with  quantities  of  yellow  lilies  of  a  most  odious 
odor.  Over  the  pond  is  a  bridge,  crossing  which  you 
find  a  very  pleasant  walk,  up  the  "  cast  road."  Wild 
flowers  are  there,  in  great  variety  and  profusion.  To 
me,  accustomed  to  bouquets  made  to  order,  the  freedom 
to  pick  and  choose  here  is  very  delightful.  Our  hostess 
is  astonished  at  the  quantities  of  wild  things  which  I 
bring  home  from  my  rambles ;  and,  when  I  tell  her 
that  I  think  them  very  beautiful,  she  says,  "  Well, 
there's  no  accounting  for  people's  tastes;"  which  is 
very  true,  indeed. 

Around  us  rise  the  Berkshire  hills,  from  which  come 
down  the  most  invigorating  of  breezes,  —  giving  one 
the   rosiest  of  cheeks   and   the  heartiest  of  appetites. 


180  TAGIICONIC. 


Breakfast,  with  us,  I  assure  you  is  anything  but  a  mere 
ceremony ;  and  the  dinner  bell  is  never  an  unwelcome 
sound. 

Mr.  F.,  the  occupant  of  the  pretty  white  office, 
and  a  very  agreeable  man,  called  last  evening  and 
planned  several  excursions ;  among  others,  one  to 
"  Otis  Falls,"  which,  he  assures  us,  are  well  worth  the 
visiting.  I  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  F.'s 
two  dogs,  and  think  them  both  very  interesting,  in  their 
way.  There  is  another,  seemingly  ownerless,  —  a  sort 
of  canine  loafer,  following  every  one  who  encourages 
him,  and  wagging  his  tail  in  token  of  friendship,  if  you 
do  but  look  at  him.  "  Zach." —  Zach.  Taylor,  they  call 
him  —  is  a  large  black  and  shaggy  animal,  whose  escort 
is  not  always  acceptable ;  but  he  seems  to  know  that  I 
am  a  visitor,  and  very  rarely  allows  me  to  go  out  unat- 
tended. 

Friday.  —  Yesterday,  with  a  party  from  Lenox,  we 
visited  the  Spring,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  "  Cold 
Spring  Iron  Works."  We  had  a  delightful  ride  of 
three  miles,  then  a  walk  through  a  luxuriant  turnip 
field,  and  a  pretty  piece  of  woods,  when  suddenly  we 
found  ourselves  standing  on  the  banks  of  a  narrow 
river,  with  a  high,  steep  hill  rising  close  behind  as, 
covered  with  silver  birch.  Half  way  up  the  hill-side  a 
rude  seat  had  been  placed  among  the  trees,  and  just 
below  it  is  the  beautiful  spring,  of  whose  clear,  cold 
waters  every  visitor  is  expected  to  drink,  and  after- 
wards to  lave  his  hands  in  its  pebbly  basin.  Around 
we  found  some  gorgeous  cardinal  flowers,  foxgloves, 
and  many  other  flowers  of  unknown  names,  but  with 
bloom  and  fragrance  not  less  sweet  for  that.     We  are 


TO    THE    FALLS.  181 


happy  and  willing  to  testify  that  a  prettier  spot  is  not 
to  be  found  in  Berkshire,  nor  colder  water  this  side  of 
Greenland. 

On  our  return,  we  looked  into  the  "  Forge,"  and  saw 
men  hammering  iron,  as  warm  as  if  there  were  no 
"  cold  spring  "  within  a  hundred  miles  of  them.  Now, 
Cousin,  will  you  ever  say  again  that  you  never  heard 
of  such  a  place  as  Otis  ? 

John  has  just  come  in  with  a  pair  of  gloves,  which 
he  "  inclines  to  think  need  mending ; "  and  I,  like  a 
pattern  cousin,  am  going  to  sew  up  the  rips.     So  adieu ! 

Monday.  —  On  Saturday  we  went  to  the  Falls.  The 
morning  seemed  specially  made  for  our  purpose,  and 
we  started  in  the  highest  spirits.  All  the  way  the  road 
kept  close  by  the  little  river,  which  here  meets  us  at 
every  turn.  Fine  trees  grew  on  either  side  of  the 
road,  often  intermingling  their  branches  overhead,  and 
forming  a  sort  of  triumphal  arch,  "  long  drawn  out." 
The  waters  sparkled  and  gleamed  up  among  the  leaves  ; 
the  wild  flowers  —  the  laurel  most  beautiful  of  all  — 
were  in  full  bloom;  the  birds  sang  sweetly;  "in  short," 
as  Mr.  Micawber  would  say,  "  everything  was  color  de 
rose."  Even  Miss  T.  forgot  that  "her  sun  bonnet 
made  her  look  like  a  fright,"  and  sat  in  perfect  content- 
ment. 

"We  were  almost  sorry  when  we  came  to  the  little 
village  of  Cold  Spring,  three  miles  from  the  village  of 
Otis,  where  we  dined,  and  then  laid  our  course  for  the 
Falls.  Here  we  separated  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.,  who 
went  round  in  the  carriage,  while  we  preferred  climbing 
up  and  over  a  very  steep  mountain,  although  it  cer- 
tainly did  not  present  a  very  attractive  appearance. 
15* 


182  TAGIICOXIC. 


Almost  destitute  of  trees,  and  covered  with  short,  dry 
grass,  so  slippery  was  the  way  that  we  could  hardly 
keep  our  feet.  But  we  were  desirous  of  doing  some- 
thing "  out  of  the  common,"  so,  with  a  boy  for  a  guide, 
we  commenced  our  ascent. 

There  was  something  entirely  amusing  in  slipping 
down  and  being  pulled  up,  in  catching  hold  of  alder 
bushes  for  support,  taking  in  breath  to  last  another 
trial,  and  then  making  it.  When  we  did  come  to  a 
tree,  that  was  a  special  blessing.  Almost  at  the  summit 
we  met  with  one  —  a  very  ancient  broad-branched  apple 
tree,  in  whose  shade  we  stayed  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
It  had  fruit,  too,  —  Mr.  T.'s  cane  soon  brought  us  a 
specimen,  and  he  insisted  upon  our  eating  it.  Miss  T. 
made  the  attempt,  and  declared  it  entirely  impossible ; 
but  when  John,  with  his  most  engaging  smile,  besought 
her  to  eat  half  of  his,  she  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse. 
Her  brother  muttered  something  about  Eve  and  the 
serpent.  Yes ;  that  was  a  pleasant  quarter  of  an  hour 
under  the  old  apple  tree ;  while  Miss  T.  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  alter  the  strings  of  her  bonnet,  Cousin  Jack 
talked  an  immense  deal  of  poetry,  and  Mr.  T.  decorated 
my  hat  with  leaves  from  the  old  apple  tree,  vastly 
admiring  his  own  handiwork. 

The  remainder  of  the  ascent  was  soon  climbed ;  we 
caught  glimpses  of  houses,  and  saw  before  us  an  open 
road ;  stone  fences  now  came  to  be  very  frequent,  and 
we  became  proficients  in  climbing  them.  Crossing  the 
road  we  entered  a  rough-looking  piece  of  woodland, 
where  we  heard  the  roar  of  the  water.  It  grew  louder 
and  louder,  as  we  descended  into  the  wildest  looking 
ravine  you  can  imagine.     Rude  steps  were  made  to 


THE    FALLS.  183 

assist  our  descent,  and  we  soon  found  ourselves  in  the 
very  presence  of  the  Fall. 

M.  and  her  spouse  were  there,  ready  to  "do  the 
honors,"  and  seemingly  on  very  intimate  terms  with 
Majesty.  Description  is  not  my  forte,  or  you  should 
have  all  the  characteristics  of  the  cataract,  —  its  length, 
breadth,  quantity  of  water,  and  all  that.  You  must 
now  be  content  to  know  that  they  are  beautiful  and 
sublime,  —  beautiful  enough  to  call  forth  all  your 
"Oh's"  and  "Ah's"  of  delight;  grand  enough  to  fill 
you  with  admiration,  without  making  you  feel  miser- 
ably insignificant  in  comparison,  —  a  combination  of 
qualities  much  to  be  desired. 

High  rocks  rise  perpendicularly  on  either  side,  and 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  river  goes  roaring  and 
foaming  between  them,  in  a  very  boisterous  style.  I 
cannot  think  that,  in  all  its  course,  it  ever  becomes  a 
quiet,  orderly,  well-behaved  stream.  I  ought  to  speak 
a  good  word  for  the  Falls,  for  they  got  up  a  rainbow 
for  our  especial  benefit,  —  and  Niagara  could  have 
done  no  more.  We  stayed  until  the  last  moment  pos- 
sible ;  but  Avhen  we  set  our  faces  homeward,  we  were 
quite  willing  to  abandon  pedestrianism.  Very  tired 
indeed  we  were,  and  yet  even  more  delighted  with  our 
day's  excursion.  Two  days  only  remain,  of  our  visit 
here,  so  that  you  will  not  get  a  very  long  Otis  journal. 

Tuesday.  —  This  morning  I  strolled  into  the  burial 
ground,  and  it  struck  me  as  the  most  uninviting  place 
in  the  village.  I  wondered  if  the  dead  could  sleep  well 
beneath  its  sod.  Nothing  in  the  world  could  tempt  me 
to  be  buried  there;  I  could  never  rest  quietly.  I 
am  sure  no  "host  of  taste  would  think  a  moment  of 


181  TAGHCONIC. 


walking   in    such    a  jungle  of  thistles  and  blackberry 
bushes. 

At  Mount  Auburn,  where  Nature  and  Art  are  both 
in  such  perfection,  my  thoughts  are  occupied  with  the 
beautiful  sculpture,  the  rare  trees,  the  lovely  walks  to 
the  exclusion  of  its  silent  inhabitants ;  but  here,  the 
absence  of  every  attraction  compelled  me  to  think  of 
the  Unseen,  —  and,  leaning  against  the  rude  fence,  I 
mused  long,  if  not  deeply,  on  that  great  mystery  — 
Death.  [Godfrey  thinks  this  latter  much  the  more 
proper  and  profitable  subject  for  his  fair  friend's  con- 
templation, and  hopes  it  may  occur  again.]  Do  not 
suppose  I  am  going  to  trouble  you  with  my  specula- 
tions ;  they  were  too  vague,  if  I  had  the  wish  to  do  so. 

It  was  curious  how  strongly  came  back  to  me  my 
old  childish  feelings,  when,  a  little  girl,  I  used  to  have 
the  gloomiest  thoughts  of  being  buried.  The  idea  of 
being  carried  out  from  my  home,  and  left  all  alone  in 
the  grave-yard,  was  very,  very  dreadful ;  many  bitter 
tears  have  I  shed  over  my  own  obsecpiies.  I  envied 
the  mummies  which  I  read  of  in  my  First  Class  Book, 

"  Who  walked  about 
In  Thebc's  streets,  three  thousand  years  ago," 

and  yet  were  standing  up,  if  not  walking.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  should  not  fear  death  so  much,  if  I  could 
be  made  like  one  of  them,  and  placed  in  Sister  Mary'- 
closet,  which  she  visited  two  or  three  times  every  day. 
Once  I  remember  to  have  expressed  a  wish  of  the 
kind,  but  the  look  of  horror  with  which  my  proposition 
was  received,  quite  precluded  any  hope  of  such  an 
indulgence  beinsr  srranted. 


ZACH.  185 

Even  now  I  have  something  left  of  that  old  feeling  ; 
my  spirit  still  loves  its  earthly  tenement,  as  one  does 
the  house  in  which  he  was  born,  and  has  passed  many 
years  of  joy  and  sorrow.  I  love  to  believe  that  my 
own  body  will  be  raised  a  heavenly  one,  for  I  know  my 
spirit  would  not  feel  quite  at  home  in  an  angel's  form. 

I  was  still  in  deep  thought,  when  I  heard  a  rushing 
sound,  and  saw  the  blackberry  bushes  and  thistles  in 
violent  commotion.  I  was  at  hrst  in  great  alarm,  not 
knowing  what  wild  beast  might  have  made  his  lair  in 
these  savage  haunts ;  and  I  was  not  a  little  relieved 
when  I  saw  my  self-constituted  esquire,  "Zach,"  making 
his  way  towards  me.  He  seemed  perfectly  wild  with 
joy,  at  my  unusually  cordial  reception,  and  accompa- 
nied me  home  without  any  refusals  on  my  part. 

This  is  my  last  day  in  Otis.  With  the  hope  of  your 
presence  in  Boston  the  coming  "Winter,  and  of  many 
letters  in  the  meantime,  I  subscribe  myself 

Your  affectionate 

Cousin  Winifred. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

PITTSFIELD    YOUNG    LADIES'   INSTITUTE. 

It  is  like  a  picture  in  an  old  story  book  about 
France  la  belle,  with  arching  trees  in  front,  a  temple 
and  chateau  in  the  back-ground,  and  maidens  and 
peasant-gilds  in  all  —  is  the  scene  at  our  Young  Ladies' 
Institute,  of  a  pleasant  Summer  twilight.  All  its  light 
hearted  inmates  are  out  in  full  glee,  with  circling  games 
and  ringing  laughter,  —  the  truest  children  of  health, 
content,  and  innocence. 

But  all  are  not  in  the  giddy  group ;  some  have  sepa- 
rated from  it,  and,  in  couples,  with  arms  affectionately 
intertwined,  are  slowly  walking  down  the  long  paths, 
pouring  into  each  other's  ears  the  precious  secrets  of 
maiden  confidence,  —  all  the  hopes,  the  dreams,  the 
fears  which  can  find  a  lodging  place  in  pure  hearts. 
Very  precious  are  those  hopes  and  fears ;  although 
neither  may  ever  be  realized,  yet  shall  they  be  a  part  of 
life  and  a  part  of  the  woman  in  all  her  future.  In  this 
life  of  ours,  we  pile  dream  upon  dream,  effort  upon  dis- 
appointed effort,  until  the  apparent  fruitlessness  attains 
to  some  sort  of  fruition  and  reality.  There  are  few 
things  in  poetry  more  beautifully  and  truthfully  said, 
than  these  lines  of  Henry  Taylor  :  — 


YOUNG    LADIES'    INSTITUTE.  187 

"  The  tree 
Sucks  kindlier  nature  from  a  soil  enriched 
By  its  own  fallen  leaves ;  and  Man  is  made 
In  heart  and  spirit  from  deciduous  hopes, 
And  things  which  seem  to  perish." 

Under  the  vine  shaded  bowers,  or  by  the  sparkling 
fountain,  sits  here  and  there  a  solitary  maiden,  with 
thoughts,  perhaps,  far  away  in  a  happy  home  ;  striving 
to  bring  to  her  fancy  the  family  group  as  it  is  in 
the  old  homestead  at  the  pleasant  close  of  day.  She 
may  well  be  pardoned  if,  even  in  this  pleasant  home  of 
learning,  she  steals  a  little  while  from  young  companion- 
ship, to  let  the  warm  but  not  bitter  tears  run  freely 
down  her  cheeks.  She  will  soon  rejoin  the  merry 
circle,  not  the  least  merry  there. 

This  Institute  is  becoming  a  marvel  of  beautiful  com- 
pleteness. Nothing  in  our  village  is  more  attractive  to 
a  stranger's  eye  than  its  broad  ornamental  grounds, 
with  their  winding  walks  and  drives ;  their  bowers, 
trees,  hedges,  and  shrubbery,  in  the  centre  of  which 
are  grouped  the  chapel,  gymnasium,  and  dormitories. 

The  chapel  is  a  most  chaste  and  elegant  structure9 
modelled  accurately  after  that  portico  of  the  Erecthion 
at  Athens,  dedicated  to  Minerva  Polias.  Classic  anti- 
quarians tell  us  that  in  this  portico  was  the  sacred 
olive  tree,  created  by  Minerva  at  the  foundation  of 
the  citadel,  and  that  here  also  was  kept,  guarded  by 
dragons,  the  Erichthonian  image  of  the  same  goddess 
—  the  Athenian  Palladium.  Perhaps  there  may  be  a 
bit  of  pedantry  in  it,  but  one  cannot  help  suggesting 
that  in  our  temple  also  is  kept  a  Palladium,  whose 
safety  is  quite  as  essential  to  the  well  being  of  the  State 
as  that  of  old  was  fabled  to  be  to  the  welfare  of  Athens 


188  TAGIICONIC. 


—  the  education,  virtue,  and  piety  of  American  women. 
I  am  afraid,  now,  some  wicked  youth  will  pursue  the 
simile  farther,  and  add  that  our  modern  Palladium,  like 
the  ancient,  is  guarded  by  dragons ;  to  which  I  can  only 
reply,  that  I  know  no  more  amiable  and  pleasant  people 
than  these  same  dragons,  at  least  when  off  duty ;  I 
cannot  answer  for  other  times. 

This  chapel  is  as  chaste  and  beautiful  within,  as  it  is 
without.  On  either  side  a  broad  passage  way,  paved 
with  blue  and  white  marble  mosaic,  are  arranged  con- 
venient rooms  for  classes,  cabinets,  and  like  purposes. 
From  this  we  ascend,  by  a  broad  and  easy  flight  of 
stairs,  to  a  large,  airy  hall,  handsomely  frescoed,  and 
perfectly  ventilated.  The  furniture  of  this  room  is  very 
rich  and  costly,  especially  the  magnificent  organ  and 
piano,  —  which,  under  the  hands  of  M.  Trenckler  and 
his  pupils,  are  made  to  speak  to  the  very  soul.  Few 
of  the  musical  lions,  who  of  late  have  set  the  country 
wild,  have  half  the  genius  of  this  gentleman,  who,  with 
the  modesty  of  a  master,  shrinks  from  the  public  gaze. 
In  this  chapel  hall  the  school  daily  assembles.  Here, 
also,  are  held  the  Semi- Annual  Examinations  and  the 
Musical  Soirees.  I  make  it  a  point  to  attend  these 
examinations,  both  as  a  matter  of  pleasure  and  profit. 
Poetry  and  philosophy,  believe  me,  sound  none  the  less 
pleasantly  when  they  come  from  rosy  lips ;  no,  nor  any 
the  less  truthfully.  Why !  I  have  seen  an  eminent  D.D. 
enter  into  a  discussion  with  a  witty  Miss,  on  one  of 
these  occasions,  and  the  worthy  divine  did  not  come  off 
triumphant. 

But,  if  I  begin  on  this  theme,  there  is  no  telling 
where  I  may  end ;  and  besides,  I  should  trench  on  the 


YOUNG    LADIES'    INSTITUTE.  189 

province  of  the  honorables,  the  reverends,  and  the  ven- 
erables,  who  will  form  the  next  examining  committee. 
What  puzzles  me,  is  how  masculine  vanity  ever  grew 
so  enormously  as  to  fancy  its  possessor  had  more  sconce 
than  womankind.  It  is  strange,  again,  how  the  idea 
ever  obtained,  that  learning  was  a  sort  of  compensating 
perquisite  for  ugly  women.  One  who  attends  an  Insti- 
tute Examination  would  say  that  beauty  and  brains  go 
as  naturally  together  as  strawberries  and  cream. 

To  tell  of  the  delicious  musical  reunions  would  lead 
me  more  widely  astray  than  the  dryer  details  of  an 
examination,  —  inasmuch  as  I  love  music  as  cordially 
as  I  detest  mathematics ;  yet  I  suppose  the  latter  must 
in  some  way  be  digested.  Indeed,  I  am  told  some 
young  ladies  "  dote  on  them."  It  is  odd  to  hear  silver 
toned  voices  rattling  off  plus  and  minus,  sines  and 
cosines,  arcs,  segments  and  tangents,  with  as  much  zest 
as  "  Ah,  non  giunge,"  or  "  Oft  in  the  stilly  night." 
But,  seriously,  one  thing  speaks  well  for  the  balance  of 
education  here,  and  that  is,  —  that  the  voice  which 
most  clearly  elucidates  a  problem  of  Euclid  in  the 
morning,  shall  also  most  accurately  analyze  a  passage 
of  Milton  in  the  afternoon,  and  perhaps  charm  you 
with  some  sweet  strain  of  music  in  the  evening.  Of 
course  this  nice  balance  is  only  found  in  those  who, 
commencing  early,  persevere  through  a  complete  course 
of  study.     But  I  am  running  on  as  I  said  I  would  not. 

The  most  novel  of  the  provisions  which  Mr.  Tyler 
has  made,  for  the  benefit  of  his  pupils,  is  the  splendid 
Gymnasium  —  I  believe  the  most  costly  and  complete 
thing  of  its  kind,  connected  with  any  institution  of 
learning,  in  the  country.  It  is  a  very  large  and  finely 
1G 


190  TAGIICONIC. 


proportioned  building,  of  two  stories,  —  the  lower  divi- 
ded into  musical  and  painting  rooms,  and  the  like.  The 
upper  forms  a  magnificent  hall,  eighty  feet  long  by  fifty 
wide,  with  a  graceful  arch  in  the  centre,  supported  by 
two  fine  colonnades  of  Ionic  pillars.  From  this  arch 
are  suspended  ropes,  swings,  and  a  variety  of  calis- 
thenic  apparatus,  —  which  can  easily  be  placed  aside, 
leaving  the  broad  area  open,  for  the  enjoyment  of  the 
freest  hilarity. 

On  either  side  this  open  space,  within  the  colonnades, 
are  two  bowling  alleys  —  four  in  all  —  which  entice  the 
pupils  to  continual  practice  of  that  most  genial  and 
healthful  exercise.  The  value  of  systematic  exercise 
has  been  the  constant  theme  of  teachers  for  years. 
The  rewards  which  its  practice  would  ensure,  and  the 
sad  punishment  for  its  neglect,  used  to  be  painted  to  us 
at  school,  in  glowing  colors,  —  whose  truthfulness  too 
many  of  us  can  now  painfully  recognise. 

I  do  not  know  that  we  then  believed  them  false,  but 
the  want  of  those  facilities  which  Mr.  Tyler  has  so 
amply  supplied,  were  a  sore  temptation  to  brave  the 
danger.  Heretofore,  the  attempt  to  supply  this  defi- 
ciency has  been  wofully  inefficient.  Although  it  is 
essential  that  the  place  of  exercise  should  be  well  ven- 
tilated, and  of  attractive  appearance,  yet  whenever  a 
room  has  been  provided,  it  has  generally  been  some 
close,  rough,  cobwebed  hall  —  an  unsightly  place,  with- 
out beauty  or  fitness.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  ex- 
ample of  Mr.  Tyler,  in  reforming  this  matter  altogether, 
will  be  appreciated  and  followed. 

Leaving  this  hall,  we  ascended,  by  several  flights  of 
stairs,  to  the  cupola,  where  we  were  astonished  at  the 


MISS  wells'  school.  191 

beautiful  bird's-eye  view  of  the  valley  which  presented 
itself.  I  think  nothing  of  the  kind  in  Pittsfield  can 
surpass  it. 

The  "Institute"  is  not  the  only  seminary  of  the 
kind  in  our  village.  The  pleasant  family  school  of 
Miss  "Wells,  although  without  the  costly  and  luxu- 
rious appliances  of  the  Institute,  is  hardly,  if  at  all, 
inferior  to  it  in  successful  teaching.  I  have  never 
listened  to  the  public  exhibition  of  scholarship  at  this 
school,  but  its  graduates  are  possessed  of  accomplish- 
ments which  any  institute  might  be  proud  to  have  bes- 
towed. Nothing  can  be  more  pleasant  than  the  "  Mu- 
sical Soirees"  at  this  school.  The  unaffected  style 
and  splendid  execution  of  Mr.  Crossman,  and  his 
pupils,  is  beyond  praise,  in  this  age  of  rampant  bra- 
vuras  and  crashing  symphonies. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

LANESBOItO'. HILLS    AND    VALLEYS. 

Nestled  closest  in  the  bosom  of  our  hills  lies  the 
little  village  of  Lanesboro'  —  the  very  fondling  of  Na- 
ture. Thither  turns  never  the  good  mother  her  wrin- 
kled front ;  near  pressing  as  the  mountains  clasp  the 
narrow  valley,  you  must  not  look  among  them  for 
frowning  precipices,  or  earthquake  rifted  chasms.  High 
into  the  air  their  summits  press,  but  not  in  jagged 
peaks  —  only  with  the  full,  round  swelling  of  loving 
breasts,  upon  which  you  may  repose,  if  you  will,  in  the 
gentlest  of  Summer  reveries. 

There  is  one  eminence  —  in  patriotic  gratitude  they 
call  it  Constitution  Hill  —  with  such  a  winsome,  neigh- 
borly look  to  it,  that  in  our  streets,  miles  away,  it  seems 
near  as  your  own  garden.  If  you  have  in  you  any 
yearnings  at  all  after  beauty,  I  am  sure  you  cannot 
look  upon,  and  not  be  irresistibly  drawn  to  it,  to  be 
lifted  up  gently  and  humanly,  above  the  baser  things  of 
earth.  Lying  under  its  druidical  oaks,  or  seated,  far- 
ther up,  upon  a  pearl-white  quartz  rock,  in  the  shade 
of  a  whispering  birch,  you  will  see  below  you  groves 
and  farms,  and  broad,  fresh  meadows,  with  laughing 
lakes  and  winding  rivulets,  —  like  silver  embroidery  on 
the  green  banner  of  Erin. 


OVER   VIEW.  193 


Many  fair  villages,  as  well,  will  dot  the  scene,  whose 
names  —  if  you  do  not  know  —  I  hope  you  will  never 
ask,  hut  be  content  to  remember,  that  under  each  roof 
of  them  all,  human  lives  are  wearing  themselves  out. 
Then  let  your  own  heart  interpret  for  you  what  the 
overlooking  woods  whisper.  If  you  know  well  the 
story  of  one  hearth-stone,  think  what  a  thrilling  tale  it 
is ;  and  if,  in  your  reveries  upon  the  hill-tops  you  mul- 
tiply that  marvellous  but  common  story  into  the  thou- 
sand dwellings  of  the  valley,  the  resultant  mass  shall 
be  greater  than  the  mountains  which  encompass  it. 

I  could  point  you  to  an  antique  mansion  —  a  grey 
spot  it  appears  in  the  far  distance,  with  no  overhanging 
cloud  to  distinguish  it  —  at  whose  story  I  am  deeply 
moved,  as  often  as  I  look  upon  it.  The  splendors  and 
the  shadows,  which  have  by  turns  darkened  and  illu- 
mined its  chambers,  pass  and  repass  in  spectral  reitera- 
tion, over  my  spirit.  Whether  I  will  or  not,  come  the 
ghosts  of  fleeting  joys,  irradicable  sorrows ;  the  lofti- 
ness of  human  pride  and  lowliness  of  pride's  abasement, 
which  have  passed  and  left  no  record  there ;  and  yet  that 
grey  old  homestead  is  no  accursed  roof,  devoted  to  mis- 
ery from  its  foundation,  but  one  even  such  as  its  fellows 
are.  Ah !  if  we  could  look  within  the  seemly  exterior 
of  any  home,  —  if  we  could  penetrate  the  heart's  cham- 
bers of  any  man,  what  might  not  meet  us  there? 
Those  glowing  windows  which  gleam  so  cheerily  on 
our  evening  path,  by  what  funereal  torches  may  they 
not  be  lighted?  Those  radiant  faces  which  meet  us 
smilingly  in  our  noonday  walk,  by  what  infernal  pas- 
sions may  they  not  be  driven  on  ?  So  under  the  green 
and  smiling  earth  lie  pent  the  hidden  fires,  and  help 
16* 


194  TAGnCONIC. 


the  genial  sun  to  quicken  the  blossom  and  ripen  the 
fruit. 

This  Constitution  Hill  must  be  a  great  promoter  of 
reverie.  I  have  a  friend  —  a  bachelor  friend  —  who, 
no  sooner  is  he  seated  upon  it,  than  off  he  goes  dream- 
ing over  the  whole  valley,  in  a  very  Marvel-ous  way. 
I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  dwelling  in  sight,  from 
Greylock  to  Taghconic,  that  he  has  not,  at  sometime, 
made  himself  pater  familias  in  it.  Bring  him  up 
hither,  and  his  respect  for  the  Tenth  Commandment 
vanishes  like  the  mist  of  the  valley.  Another  friend 
of  mine  —  an  artist — never  looks  down  from  hence, 
but  —  presto  !  change  !  —  the  hard  work  of  a  century 
all  gone,  and  the  red  Indian  come  back  again,  with  wild 
wood  and  wigwam,  council  fire  and  hunting  ground. 
So  you,  if  you  come  within  the  charmed  circle  of  our 
hills'  shaven  crown,  may,  perchance,  work  some  won- 
derful phantasmagoric  changes. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  all  comes  about.  Perhaps 
some  good  genius  has  cast  a  spell  upon  the  spot  —  a 
mode  of  solving  such  difficulties  to  which  I  confess 
myself  prone,  being  naturally  of  a  superstitious  as  well 
as  lymphatic  turn  of  mind. 

It  may  be  only  another  fancy  of  mine,  but  the  leaves 
here  seem  to  have  a  perfection  of  beauty  not  attained 
elsewhere.  Nature's  work  is  finished  with  more  care  ; 
the  curves  are  cut  with  a  more  accurate  grace,  and  the 
green  more  faithfully  laid  on.  In  the  Fall,  too,  the 
rich  enamellings  are  done  with  greater  depth  of  color- 
ing, and  without  shrivelling  up  the  work  in  the  process, 
as  the  careless  elves  are  very  apt  to  do  in  other  groves. 
The   specimens   of  their  workmanship  which  I    have 


THE    STREAM.  195 


seen  here,  were  perfect  gems  in  their  way.  You  shall 
not  desire  to  see  a  more  gorgeous  sight  than  Constitu- 
tion Hill  in  Octoher. 

Just  on  the  western  declivity  is  a  good  sized  cavern, 
which,  a  witty  lady  thinks,  may  be  the  home  of  these 
elfin  workmen ;  but,  in  spite  of  the  high  authority,  I 
must  doubt ;  such  underground  tenements  are  more  fit 
dwelling  places  for  bears,  wolves,  and  such  like  ugly 
gnomes,  than  for  any  gentle  spirits  whatever.  No, 
ours  are 

"  Some  gay  creatures  of  the  elements, 
Who  in  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  live 
And  play  'i  the  plighted  clouds." 

Descending  from  the  hill,  you  may  wander  up  the 
stream  which  flows  at  its  base.  If  a  follower  of  the 
"gentle  craft  of  angling,"  you  will  not  neglect  to  lie 
awhile  where  some  thick-leaved  maple  overshadows  a 
deep  pool,  where  you  may  drop  your  line  with  the 
reasonable  hope  of  bringing  to  shore  a  dozen  fine  fish 
—  perhaps  even  the  "  Hermit  Trout"  himself,  who  is 
believed  to  haunt  these  pools,  and  only  dimple  the 
shallows  in  the  pale  moonlight;  —  a  wary  old  fellow  he, 

"  Too  shrewd 
To  be  by  a  wading  boy  pulled  out !" 

Indeed,  this  is  a  stream  which  would  have  charmed 
old  Izaak  —  the  very  counterpart  of  his  own  transparent 
Ichen.  But  I  trust  you  are  no  patron  of  his  treacher- 
ous sport.  You  were  better  to  sit  on  some  warm  bank 
of  green  sward,  or  dangling  your  feet  over  some  rustic 
bridge,  to  watch  the  smoothly  gliding  current,  and 


196  TAGHCONIC. 


"The  shadows  of  sun-gilt  ripples 
On  the  pebbly  bed  of  a  brook." 

There  is  no  wine,  or  oil  of  gladness,  which  has  such 
a  balm  for  the  wounded  spirit  as  the  soft  murmurs  of  a 
rural  brooklet. 

Wandering  on,  you  may,  if  you  are  fortunate  as  I 
have  been,  sometimes  catch  a  glimpse  into  dream-land, 
—  like  a  vignette  to  an  old  romance,  of  a  youth  seated 
under  a  spreading  elm,  with  a  guitar  in  his  hand  and  a 
maiden  by  his  side.  When  I  was  a  citizen  I  used  to 
think  such  things  confined  to  poetry  and  Spain ;  but 
here,  in  the  cpiiet  days  of  Summer,  things  often  occur 
which  convince  one  of  the  truth  of  Hood's  remark, 
that  "  it  is  dangerous  to  swear  to  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  a  romance,  even  of  one's  own  making." 

On  a  gentle  hillock,  by  whose  side  the  stream  flows 
in  deep  willow  shade,  is  the  village  grave-yard.  Do 
not  fail  to  enter  it.  Among  its  thick,  clustering  monu- 
ments you  can  linger  with  best  profit,  undisturbed  by 
quaintly  ludicrous  epitaphs,  or  monstrous  heraldries  of 
death.  The  touching  inscriptions  on  the  simple  marbles 
bespeak  alike  the  chastened  spirit  and  the  cultivated 
mind.  What  wild  woe  —  paternal,  filial,  fraternal,  and 
conjugal  —  this  narrow  spot  has  witnessed,  I  shrink 
from  recalling.  The  marble  bears  record  only  of 
the  subdued  grief  and  the  christian  hope :  the  story 
of  the  early  woe,  when  the  one  joy  of  life  per- 
ished, —  when  "  the  young  green  bole  was  marked  for 
fellage,"  is  not  told  to  the  stranger's  eye,  and  is  sacred 
from  the  stranger's  pen.  Yet  to  that  stranger  is  the 
place   deeply   consecrated;  how   holy,   then,   to   those 


THE    OLD    -WORSHIPPER.  197 

whose  best  of  earth  is  mingled  with  its  dust.  I  am 
here  often  reminded  of  a  beautiful  thought  of  Richter« 
"  The  ancients  had  it  that  not  even  the  ashes  of  the 
dead  should  be  embarked  with  the  living,  for  fear  of 
the  storm  which  would  be  sure  to  follow.  We  have 
learned  better,  and  know  that,  to  be  accompanied  on 
the  voyage  of  life  by  the  memory  of  the  dead,  brings 
calm,  and  not  storm ;  he  who  always  feels  one  loss,  will 
be  less  accessible  to  new  sorrow." 

®l)e  ©lb  tX)orsl)ipper. 

In  this  grave-yard  I  once  witnessed  a  scene,  so  touch- 
ing and  solemn,  and  yet  so  far  removed  from  any  agony 
of  woe,  that  to  speak  of  it  can  open  anew  no  half 
healed  wound.  It  was  one  of  those  occasions  when 
the  sorrows  of  earth  are  so  gloriously  transmuted  into 
the  joys  of  Heaven,  that  we,  who  remain  "of  the 
earth,  earthy,"  look  upon  the  transfiguration  in  far  off 
wonder ;  while  Philosophy  strives  in  vain  to  charac- 
terize emotions,  in  which  the  consoler,  Christ,  enables 
the  mourner  to  mingle  —  as  in  His  own  mysterious 
nature  —  so  much  of  human  sorrow  with  so  much  of 
Divine  confidence. 

Not  far  from  the  village  grave-yard  is  the  church, — 
a  modest  gothic  structure,  built  of  the  grey  stone  of 
the  county.  This  was  once,  for  many  months,  my  own 
place  of  worship;  and  still,  on  a  pleasant  Sabbath 
morning,  I  love  to  stroll  to  it.  The  bracing  walk  of 
some  half  dozen  miles,  through  a  delightful  count ry,  is 
no  unworthy  preparation  for  the  devotions  of  the  sanc- 
tuary ;  and,  through  the  day,  the   voices  of  woods  and 


198  TAGnCONIC. 


waters  seem  to  mingle  with  the  deep  responses  of  the 
congregation.  Nature,  with  her  thousand  voices,  joins 
in  the  jubilant  chorus,  and  in  subdued  tones  echoes  the 
supplications  of  the  solemn  litany. 

The  first  morning  upon  which  I  entered  this  church 
I  was  struck  with  the  venerable  figure  of  an  old  man, 
who  sat  in  front  of  me,  completely  absorbed  in  worship. 
Never  had  my  ideal  of  Christian  devotion  been  so  com- 
pletely filled ;  no  painter  could  have  desired  a  finer 
model.  His  whole  soul  seemed  informed  and  penetra- 
ted with  the  spirit  of  the  liturgy,  in  whose  elocpaent 
words  he  poured  forth  his  soul  to  God. 

His  veteran  form  was  tall  and  martial  in  its  bearing; 
in  the  deep  lines  of  his  countenance  you  could  not  mis- 
take the  characters  of  strong  intellect,  self  respect,  and 
unbending  firmness  of  purpose.  You  would  say  he 
was  one  not  likely  to  yield  much  obsequious  homage  to 
his  fellow  man  ;  but  here,  in  the  presence  of  Jehovah, 
his  whole  bearing  was  conformed  to  the  most  lowly,  yet 
manly,  humility.  Nothing  could  be  more  impressive 
than  the  earnest  tones  with  which  he  joined  in  the  ser- 
vices of  the  church. 

Sabbath  after  Sabbath  my  eye  sought  and  found  him 
—  the  most  noticeable  figure  in  the  room  —  until  one 
Summer's  day,  when  I  entered,  the  people  were  wait- 
ing, in  that  hush  of  expectation  which  in  a  country 
congregation  tells  one  that  a  funeral  is  about  to  take 
place.  On  my  way  to  the  church  I  had  lingered  a  few 
moments,  as  was  my  wont,  in  the  grave-yard,  —  and 
had  found  an  open  grave  in  the  lot  of  the  venerable 
worshipper.  I  now  looked  to  his  pew  ;  it  was  vacant : 
and  I  at  once  guessed  that  it  was  he  who  was  about  to 


THE    FUNERAL.  199 


enter  the  sacred  portals  for  the  last  time.  But  it  was 
not  so  ;  a  whisper  from  a  neighbor  informed  me  that  it 
was  the  wife  of  the  old  man  who  was  no  more  —  the 
wife  of  his  youth. 

Presently,  as  the  procession  entered,  I  saw  the  wid- 
owed husband  following  close  behind  the  coffin,  his 
head  a  little  bent,  as  if  to  approach  nearer  the  form  of 
the  sleeper,  and  his  voice  a  little  more  tremulous  than 
usual,  as  he  joined  in  the  Scripture  appointed  to  be 
then  read. 

The  coffin  was  laid  before  the  altar,  and  the  old  man 
took  his  seat,  with  that  forced  calmness  where  the 
quivering  lip  shows  the  struggle  hardly  yet  over,  and 
the  victory  only  half  won. 

As  the  sublime  promises  of  future  reunion  were 
read ;  as  the  sympathizing  tones  of  consolation  fell 
from  the  lips  of  the  preacher,  I  thought  the  few  remain- 
ing clouds  vanished  from  the  aged  face,  and  a  perfect 
serenity  overspread  it.  "When  the  sermon  was  ended, 
with  an  aspect  almost  cheerful,  he  rose  up,  to  follow  to 
her  burial  place  all  that  remained  on  earth  of  her,  with 
whom,  for  more  than  fifty  years,  he  had  walked,  in 
sunshine  and  storm.  What  emotions  were  at  work 
within,  none  could  read ;  —  the  fixed  eye,  the  firm  set 
lip,  revealed  nothing,  —  the  prying  eye  of  curiosity, 
the  anxious  gaze  of  friendship,  returned  alike,  baffled. 
And  yet,  with  what  overwhelming  power  must  the.  busy 
memory  of  that  lonely  old  man  have  brought  back  the 
thick  crowding  events  of  half  a  century,  from  the  first 
"•-»  — °eting  to  this  last  brief  parting!  It  is  such 
moments  which  -„nst  aldose  most  vividly  to  the  mind 
of  Eld  what  this  life  is  wi.-  i,  oaa&etli  like    .   dream. 


200  TAGHCONIC. 


Such  might  have  been  the  retrospect  of  the  mourner  of 
three  score  years  and  ten,  as  he  took  his  few  brief  steps 
from  the  temple  to  the  tomb;  —  or,  perchance  his  bet- 
ter spirit  reached  forward  to  a  glorious  meeting  in  that 
home  to  which  sorrow  and  parting  can  never  come. 

The  coffin  was  lowered  to  its  place ;  —  the  people 
gathered  around.  The  pastor  began  that  beautiful  ser- 
vice, in  which  the  church  commits  earth  to  its  kindred 
earth,  and  proclaims  the  spirit  returned  to  the  God 
who  gave  it.  There,  at  the  clergyman's  side,  stood  the 
tall  and  veteran  form  of  the  mourner,  his  thin  grey 
hairs  streaming  in  the  mountain  wind,  as  he  repeated, 
firmly,  the  proper  responses.  For  a  while  he  looked 
steadfastly  down  into  the  grave,  —  but  as  the  pastor 
read:  —  "And  the  corruptible  bodies  of  those  who  sleep 
in  Him  shall  be  changed  and  made  like  unto  His  own 
gloi-ious  body,"  the  depressed  eyes  were  raised  to 
Heaven  with  an  expression  of  most  triumphant  and 
joyous  hope.  The  struggle  was  over.  The  grave  had 
lost  its  sting ;  —  "  Death  was  swallowed  up  in  victory." 
It  was  a  spectacle  most  touching  and  sublime. 

Yet  a  few  moments,  and  the  grave  was  closed ;  the 
people  separated  to  their  homes, —  and  the  mourner, 
likewise,  departed  to  his,  —  but  for  not  long.  He  was 
soon  missed  from  his  accustomed  seat  in  the  sanctuary. 
With  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  he  went  down  into  the  grave, 
—  and  the  grass  which  in  the  Spring  started  upon  his 
wife's  mound,  waved  over  two. 

There  is  another  and  older  graveyard  in  thp^W-n 
white  with  its  multitude  of  marhl"  *-"- finals.  fiGK. 
there  used  to  be  8  +om>\  -uwed  with  masonic  symbols, 


MADNESS.  201 

and  having  a  heavy  iron  knocker  on  its  door.  Here, 
often  at  midnight,  —  whether  the  still  moon  shed  her 
pale  light  on  the  ghastly  tombstones,  or  the  dark  and 
howling  tempest  was  on,  —  a  crazed  woman  used  to 
enter  the  grave  encumbered  ground,  and  strike  such 
a  peal  on  the  ringing  iron  that  the  sleepers  in  the 
near  dwellings  started  trembling  from  their  slumbers. 
There  is  something  terribly  significant  to  me  in  that 
gloomy  visitation  of  the  tomb.  What  earnestness  of 
agonized  longing  for  their  repose,  may  have  impelled 
that  wild  nocturnal  summons  to  the  dead.  "  Wake ! 
wake  !  ye  peaceful  dwellers  in  the  tomb,"  perhaps  that 
weary,  brainsick  woman  said ;  "  open  your  dark  por- 
tals and  give  me  rest  beside  ye ;  wake  !  —  the  living 
turn  from  me,  and  do  you  also  spurn  me  ?  —  me,  who 
shudder  not  at  any  loathsomeness  of  yours  ?  " 

But  cheerier  thoughts  for  the  cheerful  light  of  Sum- 
mer,—  and,  passing  the  mildewed  realms  of  death,  do 
you  hie  away  to  some  beautiful  hill,  —  Piatt's,  Pros- 
pect, St.  Luke's,  or  the  "  Noppet ; "  or  to  some  fair 
valley,  —  whither  I  may  not  stay  to  accompany  you, 
—  and  so,  farewell ! 


17 


CHAPTER     XX. 

GRANULAR    QUARTZ.  —  SILICIOUS    SAND    BEDS. 

Not  the  least  curious  geological  formation  in  Amer- 
ica is  that  of  the  granular  quartz  beds,  among  the 
Berkshire  hills.  Much  fierce  warfare  has  been  waged, 
among  the  irascible  sons  of  science,  as  to  how  and 
when  they  came  where  we  now  find  them ;  whether 
they  form  part  of  the  regular  strata,  or  are  interlopers 
in  the  family  of  old  Hoosac.  If  I  rightly  understood 
him,  I  once  heard  a  dignified  savan  distinctly  charge 
them  with  being  no  better  than  changelings ;  and  the 
whole  learned  conclave  agreed,  that  Nature  must  have 
brought  them  forth  in  a  gypsy  sort  of  a  way,  not  very 
creditable  to  her. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  could  reconcile  the  differences 
of  the  doctors  —  even  if  I  understood  them  —  but  this 
much  a  love  of  justice  compels  me  to  say,  that,  having 
visited  these  rocks  in  their  homes,  from  Vermont  to 
Connecticut,  I  have  always  found  them  lying  among 
Nature's  other  children  as  peaceably  as  need  be, — 
although  I  must  confess  that  their  neighbors  often  bear 
traces  of  fiery  times  and  a  good  deal  of  turmoil,  when 
the  quartz  first  came  among  them,  perhaps  with  some 
unseemly  ardor  and  abruptness ;  but  for  immaculate 
purity,  the  wide  world  cannot  show  their  equal. 


SAND    AND    GLASS.  203 

Without  metaphor,  the  beds  of  granular  quartz  scat- 
tered along  the  Hoosac  Mountains,  afford,  in  some  of 
their  localities,  the  most  precious  and  beautiful  silicious 
sand  for  the  glass  manufacturer,  which  the  world  has 
ever  known. 

For  thousands  of  years  this  has  been  considered  one 
of  the  most  rare  and  valuable  minerals.  Tacitus  tells 
us  that  it  was  found  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Belus, 
near  Mt.  Carmel,  and  used  by  the  Phoenicians,  three 
thousand  years  ago.  Nitre,  he  adds,  was  found  natu- 
rally combined  with  it ;  and,  although  the  shore  was 
small,  the  supply  was  considered  inexhaustible.  At 
the  time  of  the  advent  of  Our  Saviour,  vessels  were 
annually  dispatched  to  this  locality  to  bring  the  sand  to 
Rome,  where  extensive  glass  manufactories  had  been 
established.  Then,  and  long  afterwards,  Mt.  Carmel 
was  supposed  to  be  the  only  locality  of  glass-making 
sand  in  the  world.  Excellent  beds  have  since  been 
opened,  in  various  parts  of  Europe ;  but  in  England, 
until  within  a  century,  ground  flints  were  used  exclu- 
sively in  the  manufactories ;  whence  the  name,  "  Flint 
Glass."  Lynne  sand  was  afterwards  found  to  be  nearly 
pure  silicious  matter,  and  that  was  substituted.  More 
lately  I  understand  a  still  better  article  has  been  dis- 
covered at  Alum  Bay,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 

A  curious  item  in  the  statistics  of  English  glass 
making  accounts  for  the  exceeding  ugliness  of  junk 
bottles.  It  seems  that  the  British  excise  laws  forbid 
the  use  of  any  better  material  in  their  manufacture 
than  the  sand  from  the  river  bottom,  lest  the  revenue 
might  be  defrauded  by  the  use  of  the  glass  for  purposes 
where  one  which  pays  a  higher  tax  is  now  employed. 


204  TAOIICONIC. 


Great  quantities  of  sand  are  taken,  for  this  purpose, 
from  the  bed  of  the  Thames,  opposite  Woolwich  — 
from  which  comes  the  name  of  "  Woolwich  Glass." 

Until  within  a  few  years,  the  American  glass  houses 
have  been  supplied  with  silicious  material  from  the 
banks  of  the  Delaware  and  Mississippi,  and  from  a 
locality  near  Pittsburgh,  Penn.     But  about  the  year 

1847,  the  sand  beds  of  Berkshire  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  Mr.  Samuel  Smith,  of  Boston,  by  whom  their 
product  was  introduced  to  the  notice  of  nearly,  if  not 
quite,  all  the  manufacturers  of  New  York  and  New 
England,  as  well  as  to  some  of  those  in  more  distant 
places.  The  glass  houses  of  the  northern  States,  ex- 
cept Pennsylvania,  are  now  supplied  almost  exclusively 
from  these  beds. 

The  existence  of  an  excellent  silicious  sand  in  Berk- 
shire, has  been  long  known.  Indeed,  in  1814  glass 
houses  were  established  in  Cheshire  and  Chester,  in  this 
county.  But  the  difficulty  of  transportation  over  the 
hills  was  then  very  great,  and,  together  with  the  influx 
of  foreign  goods,  consequent  upon  the  return  of  Peace, 
rendered  these  enterprises  unprofitable,  and  both  were 
very  shortly  abandoned.    From  that  time  until  the  year 

1848,  the  beds  were  neglected  almost  entirely  —  being 
worked,  I  believe,  only  for  the  use  of  marble  sawyers, 
and  for  the  glass  works  at  Sand  Lake,  in  New  York. 

In  this  latter  year,  a  bed  in  the  eastern  part  of  the 
town  of  Lanesboro'  (known  now  as  the  °  Old  Berk- 
shire Bed  ")  was  opened,  to  supply  the  markets.  This 
still  remains  the  most  valuable  bed,  and  is,  I  think,  the 
only  one  now  worked.  I  may  as  well  attempt  some 
description  of  it,  as  it  appeared  on  a  recent  visit. 


THE    SAND.  205 


At  a  distance  of  some  six  miles  from  Pittsfield  we 
came  to  a  bye  road,  leading  circuitously  across  the  fields 
to  the  east.  One  of  the  windings  of  this  cross  road 
brought  us  suddenly  upon  what  —  if  it  had  not  been 
July,  I  should  have  taken  for  an  immense  snow  drift. 
It  was  a  pile  of  silicious  sand,  containing  something 
like  three  thousand  tons.  It  was  white  and  fine  as  the 
purest  snow  that  is  driven  over  our  mountains.  The 
imagination  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  brilliantly 
white  than  this  mass,  glittering  in  a  July's  sun.  Stran- 
gers exhaust  their  rhetoric  in  their  attempts  at  compar- 
ison. —  The  driven  snow,  salt,  loaf  sugar,  the  silver 
fleece,  the  fleecy  cloud,  are  all  impressed  into  service. 
One  very  young  gentleman  likened  it  to  his  lady's 
bosom ! 

They  tell  a  story  of  one  Mr.  R.,  of  Lanesboro', 
whose  good  lady  had  a  box  of  this  sand  placed  upon 
the  shelf,  close  by  a  similar  box  of  salt ;  but  the  two 
getting  somehow  transposed,  Mr.  R.  gave  the  sand  to 
his  horses,  for  salt,  for  some  days,  before  he  discovered 
his  mistake,  —  for  the  beasts  made  no  mention  of  it, 
although  undoubtedly  they  had  it  on  their  tongues. 

I  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of  this  story ;  but  the  pro- 
verbial honesty  of  gentlemen  of  that  trade  forbids  me 
to  credit  the  slanderous  report  that  the  grocers  use  the 
same  article  to  give  weight  to  their  sugars. 

The  bank  of  sand  which  I  described,  lay  a  dazzling 
mass  in  the  sunshine.  Beyond  it  a  pit  some  eighty 
feet  deep,  and  of  large  area,  was  dug  into  the  moun- 
tain. The  west  side  is  open  to  the  road,  for  drainage 
and  transportation.  The  other  sides,  or  walls,  as  they 
are  technically  called,  are  of  solid  granular  quartz. 
17* 


20G  TAGIICONIC. 


softened  in  some  parts  to  sand,  by  the  action  of  water 
and  air,  and  here  and  there  intersected  by  a  vein  of 
fire  clay.  Several  feet  of  superincumbent  soil  rest 
upon  it- 

Across  the  top  of  the  pit  a  wooden  viaduct  leads  a 
mountain  brook  to  a  series  of  wooden  vats,  witli  strain- 
ers of  wire  gauze  at  the  lower  end  of  each.  These 
are  filled  with  sand,  —  passing  in  succession  from  one 
to  the  other,  —  and  the  water  is  filtered  through  them, 
carrying  with  it  whatever  impurities  may  be  present. 
When  this  purification  is  completed,  the  sand  is 
thrown  out  to  dry  in  the  sun ;  but  a  great  deal  of  mois- 
ture remains,  which  cannot  be  thus  evaporated,  and 
accordingly  it  is  taken  to  the  drying  house,  which 
stands  on  the  main  road  nearly  at  the  point  where  the 
bye  road  leaves  it.  Here  it  is  placed  in  huge  pans, 
made  of  closely  riveted  boiler  iron,  under  which  a 
brisk  fire  is  kept  up  until  no  moisture  remains.  It  is 
then  packed  in  barrels  and  sent  to  market. 

Other  beds  of  this  mineral  have  been  wrought,  but 
none  are  so  well  worthy  of  a  visit  as  the  one  I  have 
described. 


CHAPTER     XXI. 

MONUMENT    MOUNTAIN. ICY    GLEX. STOCKBRIDGE 

BOWL. THE    MURDERED    TRAVELLER'S    GLEN. 

So  much  has  been  written  about  the  fair  old  town  of 
Stockbridge,  that  the  tourist  finds  almost  every  rood 
upon  which  he  there  treads,  already  storied  ground. 
Seldom  does  genius  owe  so  much  to  its  dwelling  place, 
and  yet  more  rarely  is  the  debt  so  richly  paid.  "  What 
is  writ  is  writ,"  and  it  is  hardly  worth  a  common  man's 
while  to  celebrate  anew  scenes  which  have  received 
their  fame  at  the  hands  of  Bryant  and  Miss  Sedgwick. 
Yet  it  is  some  compensation  that  the  dry  details,  the 
skeleton  topography  of  places  so  consecrated,  are  read 
with  interest.  In  such  topographical  style  let  us  run 
briefly  over  the  regions  about  "  Old  "  Stockbridge. 

Our  first  visit  was  to  Monument  Mountain,  which, 
although  within  the  limits  of  Great  Barrington,  is  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Stockbridge  village. 
No  description  of  it  can  be  more  perfect  than  that 
given  by  Bryant. 

"  There  Is  a  precipice, 
Which  seems  a  fragment  of  some  mighty  wall, 
Built  by  the  hand  which  fashioncil  the  old  world 
To  separate  its  nations,  and  thrown  down 
When  the  Hood  drowned  them.    To  the  north  a  path 


208  TAGIICONIC. 


Conducts  you  up  the  narrow  battlement. 
Steep  Is  the  western  side,  shaggy  and  wild 
With  mossy  trees  and  pinnacles  of  flint, 
And  many  a  hanging  crag.    But  to  the  east, 
Sheer  to  the  vale  go  down  the  bare  old  clifls,- 
Huge  pillars  that  in  middle  Heaven  uprear 
Their  weather-beaten  capitals,  here  dark 
With  the  thick  moss  of  centuries,  and  there 
Of  chalky  whiteness,  where  the  thunderbolt 
Hath  splintered  them." 


When  I  used,  in  school  clays,  to  steal  the  moments 
due  to  dryer  studies  to  read  in  the  old  "National 
Reader,"  of  Monument  Mountain  and 


"  Its  sad  tradition  of  unhappy  love 
And  sorrows  borne  and  ended  long  ago," 


I  little  dreamed  that  I  should  ever  stand  at  its  base,  in 
the  glorious  light  of  a  Berkshire  morning,  to  compute 
the  marketable  value  of  "  the  bai-e  old  cliffs."  Thank 
Heaven  they  are,  after  all,  not  of  a  nature  to  tempt 
the  avarice  of  man  ! 

The  precipice  rises  five  hundred  feet,  perpendicu- 
larly —  or  a  little  beetling  at  the  top ;  it  is  slightly 
curved  inward,  and  gradually  decreases  in  height, 
towards  the  south.  At  the  bottom  are  heaped  up  a 
great  mass  of  angular  fragments,  which  have  from  time 
to  time  fallen  from  it ;  and  a  detached  pinnacle  stands 
at  a  little  distance,  which  is  called  "  The  Pulpit  Rock," 
but  reminded  me  more  of  a  ruined  and  isolated  tower 
of  some  old  baronial  castle.  Cliff  and  fragment,  and 
isolated  crag,  are  formed  of  a  compact  granular  quartz, 
—  the  same  substance  which,  farther  north,  when  disin- 
tegrated by  some  natural  process,  forms  the  silicious 
sand  of  commerce. 


MONUMENT    MOUNTAIN.  209 

The  precipice  extends  north  to  about  the  middle  of 
the  Mountain,  where  it  disappears,  and  the  geological 
character  of  the  rock  is  changed  to  that  of  mica  slate. 
At  the  juncture  rises  the  path  by  which  you  reach  the 
summit;  and  here  I  found  some  pretty  crystals  of 
black  tourmaline.  Climbing  the  ascent,  which  is  just 
difficult  enough  to  give  a  zest  to  it,  I  bent  my  head 
dizzily  over  the  abyss. 

"  It  is  a  fearful  thing 
To  stand  upon  the  beetling  verge  and  see 
Where  storm  and  lightning,  from  that  grey  old  wall 
Have  tumbled  down  vast  blocks,  and  at  the  base 
Dashed  them  in  fragments ;  and  to  lay  thine  ear 
Over  the  dizzy  depth,  and  hear  the  sound 
Of  winds,  that  struggle  with  the  woods  below, 
Come  up  like  murmurs." 

The  pile  of  loose  stones,  which  gave  name  to  the 
mountain,  was  destroyed  in  wantonness  or  idle  curi- 
osity, many  years  ago.  I  have  been  told,  however, 
that  the  pious  contributions  of  visitors  —  who  adopted 
the  Indian  custom  of  casting  a  stone  upon  it,  as  they 
passed  —  have  quite  restored  it.  I  did  not  see  it,  for 
my  guide  said  there  was  no  monument  now,  nor  ever 
had  been.  In  fact,  he  had  very  little  respect  for  the 
romancings  of  "  Kate  Sedgwick  and  Cullen  Bryant," 
as  he  somewhat  familiarly  styled  these  distinguished 
personages.  The  story  of  the  Indian  maiden  he  con- 
sidered to  be  a  sheer  sham  —  with  no  foundation  in 
fact ;  or  even  worse,  with  one  so  detestably  unpoetic  I 
will  not  mar  your  pleasure  in  the  scene  by  recording  it. 

From  Monument  Mountain  we  drove  to  Icy  Glen. 
I  had  long  impatiently  anticipated  a  visit  to  this  cele- 
brated ravine,  and  fancied  often  to  myself  what  sort  of 


210  TAGHCONIC. 


a  place  it  might  be.  I  cannot  say  much  for  the  accu- 
racy of  my  preconceived  notions.  It  is  a  deep  and 
narrow  gorge,  cumbered  with  enormous  boulders  and 
fallen  trees,  slippery  and  mossy,  piled  up  irregularly,  so 
as  to  leave  great  cavernous  recesses  beneath,  and  to 
give  passage  to  a  brawling  stream  among  them.  There 
are,  in  Berkshire,  few  or  no  places  of  a  more  romantic 
wildness.  When,  after  stumbling  and  tumbling,  climb- 
ing and  sliding,  over  and  under  these  Devil's  playthings 
of  rocks,  one  emerges  just  at  sunset  upon  the  mellow 
rural  scene  without,  he  is  prepared  to  welcome  ecstat- 
ically the  smiling  landscape. 

Within  the  glen  there  is  sometimes  a  scene  which 
must  be  grandly  picturesque,  —  when  on  a  moonless 
and,  perhaps  starless  night,  some  hundred  people  in 
fantastic  costumes,  with  flaming  torches  and  pealing 
music,  pass  through  the  ravine,  in  such  broken  proces- 
sion as  over  that  crazy  pathway  they  can.  How  the 
red  glare  of  the  torch-light  must  flash  from  the  rugged 
surface  of  the  rocks  to  the  fair  faces  of  the  ladies, — 
never  so  fair  as  in  such  fitful  light.  How  the  mingling 
music,  and  laughter,  and  shouts  must  reecho  in  a  thou- 
sand Babel  discordances,  till  the  whole  glen  is  mazed. 

Thence  by  a  charming  road  to  the  Stockbridge 
Bowl,  the  most  famous,  —  by  many  thought  the  most 
beautiful  of  our  mountain  lakelets.  Celebrated  by  the 
loving  pens  of  Miss  Sedgwick  and  Mrs.  Sigourney,  it 
has  associations  which  our  more  northern  lakes  cannot 
boast.  It  is  a  graceful  and  gentle  sheet  of  water,  encir- 
cled by  a  fine  rural  country. 

"  The  Stockbridge  bowl !    Hast  ever  seen 
How  sweetly  pure  and  bright, 


NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE.  211 

Its  foot  of  stone,  and  rim  of  green 
Attract  the  traveller's  sight?— 
High  set  among  the  breezy  hills, 
Where  spotless  marble  glows, 
It  takes  the  tribute  of  the  rills 
Distilled  from  mountain  snows." 

SlGOCBNEY. 

To  the  other  attractions  of  this  lake,  at  the  time  of 
our  visit,  was  added,  that  upon  its  hanks  then  lived 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  It  was  no  small  thing  to  breathe 
for  a  while  the  same  air  with  that  marvellous  genius. 
The  mountain  lake  should  record  that  brief  acquaint- 
ance as  its  first  honor.  By  the  bye,  I  am  told  Mr. 
Hawthorne  honored  the  mountain  and  the  lake  with 
far  more  of  his  attention  than  he  bestowed  upon  his 
neighbors.  I  believe  Herman  Mellville  and  Gr.  P.  R. 
James  were  among  his  friends  ;  but  for  the  most  part 
he  is  said  to  have  lived  in  great  seclusion.  One  is  not 
much  surprised  to  learn  that  the  creator  of  Hester 
Prynne  and  little  Pearl,  Zenobia,  and  the  Pynchons, 
does  not  find  his  highest  pleasure  in  the  chit-chat  of 
fashionable  or  even  of  literary  coteries.  Nor  should  it 
surprise  us  if  a  touch  of  melancholy,  or  even  seeming 
moroseness,  tinges  his  manner.  The  knowledge  of  the 
soul's  anatomist  is  that  which  "  by  suffering  entercth." 

The  scene  of  Bryant's  ballad  of  "  The  Murdered 
Traveller,"  is  on  the  road  between  the  villages  of  Old 
and  West  Stockbridge.  The  following  is  the  poet's 
account  of  it,  in  his  note  :  "  Some  years  since,  in  the 
month  of  May,  the  remains  of  a  human  being,  partly 
devoured  by  wild  beasts,  were  found  in  a  woody  ravine 
near  a  solitary  road  between  the  mountains,  west  of 
Stockbridge.     It  was  supposed  that  the  person  came  to 


212  TAGiicoNn  . 


his  deatli  by  violence,  but  no  traces  could  be  discovered 
of  his  murderers.  It  was  only  recollected  that  one 
evening  in  the  previous  "Winter,  a  traveller  had  stopped 
at  an  inn  in  West  Stockbridge ;  that  he  had  enquired 
the  way  to  Stockbridge,  and  that,  in  paying  the  land- 
lord for  something  which  he  had  ordered,  it  appeared 
he  had  a  considerable  sum  of  money  in  his  possession. 

"  Two  ill-looking  men  were  present,  and  went  out 
about  the  time  the  traveller  proceeded  on  his  journey. 
During  the  Winter,  also,  two  ill-dressed  men,  but  plen- 
tifully supplied  with  money,  had  lingered  awhile  about 
the  village.  Several  years  afterwards,  a  criminal,  about 
to  be  executed  in  Canada,  for  a  capital  offence,  con- 
fessed that  he  had  been  concerned  in  murdering  a  trav- 
eller for  his  money,  near  Stockbridge.  Nothing  was 
ever  known  of  the  name  or  residence  of  the  person 
murdered." 

Such  is  the  foundation  of  Bryant's  simple  and  touch- 
ing ballad. 

There  are  other  beautiful  and  storied  scenes  about 
this  most  beautiful  town,  but  space  begins  to  fail  me, 
and  I  must  pass  them.  Green  River,  and  the  Sacrifice 
Rock,  are  left  until  another  day. 

Note.  I  regret  deeply  that  I  am  unable  to  give  a  chapter 
here  on  Great  Barrington  —  one  of  our  most  lovely  towns  — 
once  the  residence  of  Bryant ;  and  also  upon  Bash  Bish  —  one 
of  our  most  picturesque  localities.  But  a  gentleman  of  Great 
Barrington,  who  had  promised  to  contribute  such  a  chapter,  was 
compelled,  by  a  pressure  of  business,  to  disappoint  me,  when  it 
was  too  late  to  remedy  the  matter. 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

wahcoxah's  falls,  and  a  tradition 
about  them. 

A  little  way  off  the  high  road  in  Windsor  —  a 
nice  farming  town  some  ten  miles  from  us  —  are  "Wah- 
conah's  Falls,  in  one  of  the  most  lonely  and  neglected 
spots  in  Berkshire.  I  had  heard  their  praises  elo- 
quently spoken,  by  one  who  has  an  affinity  for  beauty, 
which  searches  out  its  kindred  in  all  hidden  nooks,  and 
on  a  bracing  Fall  day  I  set  out  to  visit  them. 

There  are  few  drives  through  a  more  agreeable 
region.  The  village  of  Dalton,  (Dale-town,)  through 
which  you  pass,  is  a  handsome  town,  with  a  fine  old 
meeting-house  on  its  ample,  lawn-like  green.  You  are 
enticed  to  linger,  as  well,  by  the  dark,  rushing  river, 
where  you  see  the  groaning  locomotive  toiling  wearily 
up  the  steep  ascent  above  you.  And  there,  too,  the 
quaint  looking  paper  mills,  by  the  river  side,  go  far  to 
make  up  a  pleasant  and  novel  scene.  It  is  said  that  as 
bright  glances  are  sometimes  thrown  from  the  windows 
of  these  oddly  shapes  manufactories  as  from  any  bal- 
cony, lattice  or  verandah,  whatever. 

Leaving  this  pretty  village,  and  its  prettier  belles,  .1 
few  miles  behind  us  we  came  to  the  Falls  —  a  romantic 
miniature  cataract — just  far  enough  from  the  highway 
18 


214  TAGHCONIC. 


to  be  sheltered  from  the  too  careless  eye.  The  eastern 
branch  of  the  Housatonic  here  pours  through  pcrpf-n- 
dicular  cliffs  of  grey  marble  a  considerable  volume  of 
water,  which  in  two  or  three  sheets  makes  a  descent  of 
seventy  or  eighty  feet.  The  scene  is  not  very  wild, 
but  the  dark  precipitous  cliffs  form  a  striking  and 
sombre  vista,  and  the  black  and  glassy  surface  of  the 
water  affords  a  fine  contrast  with  the  silvery  white  of 
the  foam. 

One  may  be  sure  of  passing  a  pleasant  hour  at  such 
a  spot.  The  swift,  smooth  gliding  of  water  always 
brings  a  pleasurable  sensation,  and  there  is  rare  music 
in  the  dash  of  a  waterfall  free  from  the  discordant 
clatter  of  machinery.  I  confess  to  a  malicious  joy  in 
looking  upon  the  blackened  ruins  of  an  old  mill  which 
used  to  stand  here,  but  perished  long  ago  in  some  fierce 
combat  with  the  insulted  elements.  Heaven  send  thee 
no  successor,  thou  grim  and  grinning  skeleton ! 

It  is  in  such  places  as  this,  that  sensible  people  cut 
up  all  manner  of  boyish  antics.  Never  be  over  nice 
about  dignity,  when  in  search  of  the  better  thing,  enjoy- 
ment ;  leave  gravity  and  etiquette  at  home,  in  your 
wardrobe,  with  all  other  starched  and  flimsy  articles  of 
apparel.  Get  astride  an  island  rock,  that  midway 
divides  the  stream,  where  the  torrent  shall  throw  its 
spray  over  you,  and  the  current  dash  madly  by,  on 
either  side  your  slippery  foothold.  Shout!  rival  the 
noisy  stream  at  its  own  game.  Notice  now  how 
superior  is  organic  sound  to  any  mere  inarticulate  noise. 
Your  voice,  lost  in  the  thunder  of  the  cataract  so  that 
you  cannot  hear  your  own  words,  comes  out  clear  and 
distinct  to  your  friends  up  on  the  shore.     So  the  voice 


WAHCONAH.  215 


of  true  and  prophetic  genius,  lost  now  in  the  mad  roar 
of  the  multitude,  shall  ring  its  message  in  the  ear  of 
the  listening  future. 

This  cascade  makes  good  its  claim  to  be  called 
beautiful,  by  gaining  constantly  on  your  affection.  You 
come  again,  and  again,  to  sit  by  its  ebon  pools,  and  let 
your  eye  glide  with  the  fall  of  its  glassy  sheet,  and 
sparkle  with  the  glittering  fragments  into  which  it 
breaks  among  the  rocks.  I  like  these  minor  cataracts 
which  do  not  oppress  you  with  sublimity ;  where  your 
soul  is  not  absorbed  by  any  awful  grandeur.  They  are 
like  those  pleasant  books  where  something  is  left  for 
the  imagination  of  the  reader.  There  is  room  for  the 
delights  of  an  "if;"  if  it  had  been  swollen  to  mighty 
bulk  and  curved  like  a  horse  shoe,  —  if  it  had  been 
hung  in  air  like  the  white  ribbon  of  a  bridal  bonnet,  — 
if  it  had  fallen  from  so  far  that  it  had  lost  its  way,  and 
so  on  rainbow  wings  flown  back  to  Heaven.  Why,  you 
have  a  whole  cabinet  of  possible  picturesques  in  that 
little  germ. 

There  is  a  tradition  about  these  Falls,  which  I  re- 
ceived, years  ago,  from  a  young  Indian  of  the  civilized 
Stockbridge  tribe,  who  had  come  from  his  exile  in  the 
Far  "West,  to  be  educated  at  an  Eastern  college. 

IXIahconah. 

At  the  close  of  the  great  Pequot  War,  in  1G37,  you 
recollect  that  the  remnant  of  that  gallant  nation  were 
driven  out  from  Connecticut  and  dispersed  over  the 
land  —  as  they  touchingly  said,  "like  the  Autumn  leaves, 
which  the  winds  scatter  and  they  return  not,  though  the 


21 G  TAGIICONIC. 


tree  grow  green  again."  In  this  sad  exodus  the  great 
mass  went  to  swell  the  tribes  of  the  West ;  but  a  few 
bands  chose  to  wander  up  the  Housatonic  to  the  val- 
leys, where  game  was  plenty  and  hunters  were  few. 
One  of  these  small  parties,  under  the  lead  of  a  young 
brave,  called  Miahcomo,  built  their  frail  village  in  that 
part  of  the  valley  now  called  Dalton.  Here,  for  forty 
years,  they  lived  in  peace,  and,  begetting  sons  and 
daughters,  increased  in  numbers  far  beyond  the  red 
man's  wont.  The  hill-side,  where  they  buried  their 
dead ;  the  glen,  whose  thick  woods  reflected  the  red 
glare  of  their  council  fire,  became  dear  to  them  as 
home ;  but  above  all,  the  inaccessible  mountains  were 
prized,  as  the  hunted  man  only  can  prize  the  strength 
of  the  hills. 

Almost  forty  years  had  passed  since  the  little  tribe 
fled  from  the  flames  of  Fort  Mystic,  when  the  great 
Sachem  of  the  Wampanoags  came  to  them.  With 
strong  logic,  and  glowing  elormence,  he  painted  the 
rapid  encroachments  of  the  white  man,  and  passion- 
ately besought  them  to  join  in  that  league  which,  in  the 
following  year,  well  nigh  swept  the  English  colonists 
from  the  soil  of  New  England. 

The  young  braves  grasped  their  tomahawks  as  they 
listened,  and  the  sympathetic  eye  of  woman  kindled 
with  almost  martial  fire.  But  the  rulers  in  savage,  as 
in  civilized  life,  can  sometimes  be  prudent  men.  The 
chiefs  crushed  with  cold  words  of  sympathy  the  hopes 
which  had  quickened  in  the  smiles  of  the  people. 
Miahcomo  —  the  same  who  led  the  tribe  from  the  pur- 
suit of  the  English  —  still  ruled  them;  and  the  young 
warriors  whispered  that  the  horrors  of  the  last  night  of 


wahconau.  217 


Fort  Mystic,  had  turned  his  blood  to  water  at  the 
thought  of  the  Long  Knives  —  although  bold  as  an 
eagle  towards  aught  else.  In  more  cautious  tones  they 
whispered,  that  if  ever  a  spark  of  the  old  fire  rekindled 
in  Miahcomo's  breast,  the  wily  and  cowardly  priest 
Tashmu  was  always  at  hand  to  quench  it.  Tims  the  mis- 
sion of  Philip  failed,  and  the  tribe  continued  in  peace. 

In  the  early  Summer,  nearly  two  years  after  the  visit 
of  Philip,  Miahcomo  and  his  warriors  were  summoned 
to  meet  the  Mohawks  —  to  whom  they  had  become 
feudatories  —  beyond  the  Taghconics.  Trusting  to  the 
quiet  of  the  valley,  the  village  was  left  in  charge  of 
the  women,  and  a  few  decrepit  old  men.  Among  the 
former  was  Wahconah,  the  old  chiefs  favorite  daugh- 
ter, a  young  lady  of  singular  personal  attractions,  and 
skilled  in  all  the  fine  arts  in  vogue  among  her  country- 
men,—  especially  in  that  of  angling.  What  with  all 
these  accomplishments,  and  the  high  rank  of  her  father, 
it  is  little  wonder  that  Wahconah  was  the  idol  of  all 
the  young  men  of  the  village  ;  and,  although  yet  almost 
a  child  in  years,  had  —  so  the  rumor  ran  —  received 
offers  matrimonial  from  a  certain  mysterious  Mohawk 
dignitary.  This  latter  worthy,  the  wigwam  gossips 
unanimously  agreed,  would  carry  off  the  prize,  when- 
ever he  came  in  person  to  claim  it,  —  for  it  was  a  thing 
unheard  of  in  Indian  wooing,  that  a  brave  of  fifty 
scalps  should  sue  in  vain. 

The  young  gallants  of  the  Housatonic  did  not,  for 
all  this,  remit  one  whit  of  their  attentions,  so  that, 
while  they  were  over  the  border  with  her  father,  the 
hours  hung  heavily  on  the  hands  of  Wahconah.  It 
was,  perhaps,  to  while  away  their  tediousness ;  perhaps 
18* 


218  TAGIICONIC. 


to  get  a  nice  dish  for  her  lodge,  that  the  maiden, 
one  sunny  afternoon  in  June,  took  her  fishing  lines  and 
wandered  up  the  river  to  our  cascade.  Before  the  sun 
went  down  her  success  had  been  abundant,  and  she 
only  waited  for  one  more  last  prize,  —  a  habit  which  I 
notice  is  still  invariable  with  successful  people,  be  they 
anglers,  speculators,  or  what  not. 

But  Wahconah  did  not,  after  all,  seem  to  have  fully 
set  her  heart  upon  this  final  prize.  On  the  contrary, 
she  lay  luxuriously  back  upon  the  soft  greensward, 
playfully  twining  a  few  scarlet  columbines  in  her  dark 
hair,  and  smoothing  softly  down  the  gay  feathers  of  the 
oriole  and  blue  bird  that  decorated  the  edges  of  her 
white  deer  skin  robe,  —  a  garment  which,  it  must  be 
confessed,  was  rather  excessive  in  its  Bloomerism,  con- 
sidering the  primitive  nature  of  the  wearer's  pettiloons  ; 
but  that  was  the  fashion  of  the  day,  and  no  fault  of 
Wahconah's. 

The  child-like  maiden  revelled  in  the  very  fullness 
of  delightful  idless.  With  a  gentle,  undisturbing  thrill, 
she  felt  the  richly  colored  clouds  fill  her  with  their  deli- 
cious warmth ;  she  dipped  her  little  foot  in  the  stream 
and  laughed  aloud  to  feel  the  soft  caresses  of  the  cur- 
rent ;  she  mocked  the  blackbird  that  sung  upon  the  oak, 
and  the  squirrel  that  chirped  upon  the  hickory ;  she 
threw  flowers  and  leaves  upon  the  wave,  and  smiled 
maidenly  when  two  chanced  to  meet  and  float  together 
down  the  stream  —  for  that  was  a  love  omen.  That 
must  have  been  a  pleasant  sight  in  the  Summer  twi- 
light, almost  two  hundred  years  ago. 

Pity  if  it  had  been  lost !  —  as  it  was  not,  for  all 
the  while  a  young  warrior  had  been  looking  on,  from 


WAIICONAH.  219 


the  shelter  of  a  wood  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
It  was  certainly  indelicate  in  him  to  play  so  long  the 
spy  upon  a  maiden's  reveries,  but  one  cannot  find  it  in 
his  heart  to  blame  too  severely,  when  he  considers  the 
temptation  ;  and  besides  that,  the  offender  was  but  a 
mere  savage,  and  had  never  had  the  advantage  of  the 
counsels  of  Chesterfield,  Abbot,  or  any  '"Young  Man's 
Friend"  whatever.  The  promptings  of  Nature,  how- 
ever, did  at  last  suggest  to  him  the  impropriety  of  his 
course;  or  perhaps  he  grew  impatient.  At  all  events' 
he  hailed  Wahconah,  in  the  flowery  language  of  Indian 
gallantry,  "Qua  Alangna ! "  that  is  to  say,  "Hail! 
Bright  Star ! " 

Wahconah,  startled  at  the  sudden  appearance  of  a 
strange  warrior,  in  the  absence  of  her  tribesmen,  sprang 
to  her  feet ;  but  preserving  the  calmness  befitting  Mia- 
como's  daughter,  replied,  "Qua  Sesah!"  that  is,  "Hail! 
Brother ! " 

"  Nessacus,"  continued  the  stranger,  introducing  him- 
self, "Nessacus  is  weary  with  flying  before  the  Long 
Knives,  and  his  people  faint  by  the  way.  "Will  the 
Bright  Star's  people  shut  their  lodges  against  their 
brethren  ?  " 

"  Miahcomo  has  gone  toward  the  setting  sun,"  re- 
plied the  maiden,  —  who  by  this  time  had  probably 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  Nessacus  was  a  very  hand- 
some young  man,  and  well  behaved,  —  "but  his  lodges 
are  always  open.  Let  my  brother's  people  follow, 
and  be  welcome." 

A  signal  from  the  young  chief  brought  a  weary, 
travel-worn  band  to  his  side,  and  Wahconah  led  the 
way  to  the   village,  while  Nessacus   related  to   her  the 


220  TAGHCONIC. 


sad  story  of  Philip's  defeat  and  death.  "  They  waste 
us,"  he  said,  "as  the  pestilence  which  forerun  them 
wasted  our  fathers/' 

"  The  Manitou  is  angry  with  his  red  children,"  .-aid 
"Wahconah ;  He  makes  the  white  man  mighty,  by  the 
strength  of  the  long  knife  and  the  fire  bird." 

"It  is  not  that,"  responded  her  companion  bitterly, 
"  but  the  traitor's  tongue  at  our  council  fires,  and  the 
traitor's  arrow  upon  our  war  path." 

Wahconah  remembered  Avhat  the  people  whispered 
concerning  Tashmu,  and  was  silent.  Thus  they  came 
to  the  village,  —  but  I  am  not  writing  a  tale,  and  must 
let  pass  the  welcome,  and  the  house  keeping,  as  well, 
until  Miahcomo's  return.  Suffice  it  that,  in  those  pleas- 
ant days  of  the  Moon  of  Flowers,  the  young  people  did 
just  what  you  and  I  would  have  been  likely  to  do,  — 
that  is,  fell  violently  in  love ;  and,  what  was  more,  in 
direct  violation  of  Indian  customs,  told  each  other  so, — 
a  breach  of  etiquette  you  will  the  more  readily  pardon, 
if  3011  know  experimentally,  (as  I  doubt  not  you  do,) 
how  dementing  is  the  glance  of  a  bright  eye,  and  the 
bloom  of  a  damask  cheek,  in  the  soft  light  of  a  June 
evening,  when  your  heart  is  as  full  of  love  as  the  air  is 
of  fragrance. 

Four  suns  had  ripened  the  passion  of  our  new 
lovers,  and  a  fifth  was  shining  genially  upon  it,  when  a 
messenger  came  in,  announcing  the  near  approach  of 
Miahcomo  ;  and,  as  the  custom  was,  all  the  people  went 
out  to  meet  him.  What  visions  of  happiness  our  dream- 
ers had  built  up,  in  their  barbarous  way,  I  cannot  tell ; 
nor  do  I  know  whether  Indian  sires  have  such  a  fatal 
way  of  laying  siege  to  air  castles  as  more  civilized 


WAIT  CON  AH.  221 


fathers  use;  so  you  can  guess,  as  well  as  I,  whether  any 

tremblings  troubled  the  hearts  of  our  young  friends, 
akin  to  what  young  'Squire  Mansfield  and  old  Banker 
Barker's  daughter  might  experience,  in  corresponding 
circumstances.  But  remember,  one  love  is  very  much 
like  another. 

Wahconah  and  the  chief  of  her  guests  stood  together, 
as,  just  up  the  valley,  the  returning  -warriors  came  in 
sight.  Their  leader  is  described  as  a  fine  old  hero  as 
one  should  desire  to  see.  His  tall,  sinewy  frame  was 
scarcely  bent  by  the  snows  of  seventy  Winters  ;  every 
wrinkle  in  his  face  was  firm  as  if  it  were  a  new  sinew 
of  added  strength ;  his  eye  keen  and  piercing  as  that 
of  his  youngest  archer. 

By  the  chiefs  side  walked  a  different  figure,  meek 
even  to  cringing,  with  an  uncertain  step,  and  weak, 
restless,  unquiet  eye.  It  was  the  priest  Tashmu, —  one 
of  that  strange  cast  often  hated,  sometimes  despised, 
but  always  feared  by  the  aborigines.  This  Tashmu 
was  a  constant  attendant  upon  Miahcomo,  and,  it  was 
said,  had  acquired  a  strange  and  mysterious  power  over 
the  chief's  mind. 

TVahconah  shrank  from  the  presence  of  the  wizard, 
as  the  Summer  flower  shrinks  from  the  north  wind ; 
but  his  was  not  now  the  most  unwelcome  figure  in  the 
approaching  band.  With  her  father  and  the  pries! 
came  a  burly  warrior,  not  positively  old,  nor  absolutely 
ugly  —  only  a  little  smoke  dried  or  so,  and  marked  by 
certain  transverse  and  obverse  scars,  which,  although 
doubtless  very  honorable,  might  have  been  dispensed 
with  as  mere  matters  of  ornament.  lie  was  evidently 
a   man   of  renown,  and  wore  the   scalps,   that   hung 


222  TAGncoNic. 


dangling  about  him,  as  proudly  as  ever  a  civilized  hero 
his  jewelled  star  or  blushing  ribbon.  Wahconah 
guessed,  but  too  shrewdly,  that  this  was  her  Mohawk 
lover,  —  although  he  was  far  too  dignified  a  character 
to  conduct  his  wooing  in  the  unceremonious  manner  of 
his  young  rival.  Perhaps  it  had  been  but  awkward 
work  had  he  tried  it. 

"When  the  parties  met,  a  few  words  explained  to  the 
chief  why  the  strangers  were  his  guests,  and  ensured 
a  ratification  of  his  daughter's  welcome.  Whatever 
may  have  been  his  meditations  upon  learning  the  disas- 
ters of  his  race,  they  did  not  prevent  his  holding  high 
revel  that  night,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Housatonic. 
Feasts  were  celebrated,  and  games  held,  in  honor  at 
once  of  all  his  guests.  I  leave  you  to  guess  whose 
eyes  brightened  as  Nessacus  carried  off  all  the  prizes 
for  daring  feats  and  skillful,  and  whose  darkened  as  the 
brawny  arms  and  square  frame  of  the  Mohawk,  Yon- 
nongab,  excelled  all,  in  their  marvellous  strength.  There 
was  yet  another  eye,  stealthily  and  intently  watching 
every  glance  and  action,  and  divining  the  thoughts  of 
careless  hearts,  for  Tashmu  was  already  the  enemy  of 
the  young  exile. 

Nessacus  was  no  laggard  in  love  nor  in  business. 
Early  on  the  morning  after  the  feast,  he  repaired  to 
the  lodge  of  Miahcomo,  and  the  two  remained  long  in 
conference.  The  visit  was  again  and  again  repeated, 
but  still  the  nature  of  their  business  did  not  transpire ; 
only  the  name  of  Wahconah  was  mixed  in  the  gossip 
about  it,  and  it  was  surmised  that  the  suit  of  the  Mo- 
hawk was,  perhaps,  getting  in  a  bad  way.  The  young 
chief  was  certainly  getting  to  be  a  favorite  of  the  old. 


waiiconah.  223 


But  the  power  of  the  Mohawk,  and  the  craft  of  the 
priest,  were  at  work  ;  and  they  mere  dangerous  ene- 
mies. It  was  the  part  of  the  latter  to  unearth  the 
game ;  to  discover  and  bring  the  plans  of  Nessacus 
into  open  day,  where  his  ally  could  attack  them.  He 
succeeded ;  two  propositions  soon  came  to  be  national 
affairs,  for  the  discussion  of  the  council  fire  —  the  first 
for  the  marriage  of  Wahconah  with  Nessacus,  and  the 
second  for  the  migration  of  the  tribe  to  the  West, 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  white  man's  encroachments. 
To  the  first  Miahcomo  gave  his  support  —  but  he  clung 
to  the  spot  where  he  had  ruled  so  long  and  so  prosper- 
ously. 

On  the  other  hand,  Yonnongah  demanded  the  maiden 
for  his  fourth  wife,  on  the  strength  of  some  ancient 
promise  of  her  father,  and  denounced  the  vengeance  of 
his  nation  if  their  tributaries  should  attempt  to  migrate 
beyond  their  jurisdiction.  Yonnongah  seemed  bent 
upon  securing  Wahconah,  alternately  employing  threats 
and  those  sweet  promises,  of  which  even  an  Indian 
lover  can  be  so  profuse,  —  especially  after  having 
already  won  three  hearts.  This  was  no  matter  of  jest 
with  the  sorely  perplexed  father  and  chief,  for  Yon- 
nongah was  a  man  of  might  in  his  nation,  and  would 
have  scant  scruples  of  delicacy  in  fulfilling  his  threats. 
All  which  Tashmu  lost  no  occasion  of  urging  upon  the 
chief,  to  the  great  detriment  of  our  hero's  cause. 

Nessacus  soon  saw  how  matters  were  tending,  and, 
conscious  of  his  inability  to  cope  with  the  priest  in  his 
own  arts,  took  a  bold,  blunt  man's  way  of  settling  the 
matter,  and  challenged  his  rival  to  decide  the  disputes 
by  arms.     Yonnongah,  who,  to  do  him  justice,  was  a 


224  TAGIICONIC. 


brave  man,  closed  at  once  with  the  proposal ;  but  the 
priest  was  not  thus  t<J  be  cheated  of  his  chance  of  vil- 
lany.  Signs  and  portents  multiplied  marvellously  ;  not 
a  bird  could  fly,  or  a  fish  swim,  or  a  cloud  float,  but 
each  was  pregnant  with  a  prohibition  of  the  proposed 
combat.  The  powers  above  and  below  combined  to 
forbid  it.  The  thunder  muttered  the  divine  veto  ;  the 
winds  breathed  it ;  the  stars  winked  it.  If  you  could 
believe  Tashmu,  never  was  such  a  commotion  in 
Heaven,  and  "elsewhere,"  as  the  coming  duel  had 
raised.     The  trial  by  arms  was  abandoned. 

It  was  but  fair,  since  the  gods  had  vetoed  one  mode 
of  solving  the  difficulty,  that  they  should  provide 
another.  So  thought  Tashmu,  and  exclaimed  in  the 
council,  "  Let  the  Great  Spirit  speak." 

"  Let  us  obey  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit,"  responded 
Miahcomo  reverently. 

And  Yonnongah  said,  "  It  is  well." 

It  was  then  proclaimed  that  Tashmu  would,  by  divin- 
ation, enquire  that  night  in  the  "  "Wizard's  Glen  "  how 
the  will  of  the  Manitou  should  be  ascertained ;  and  a 
"bad  spell"  was  denounced  against  all  who  went  be- 
yond the  precincts  of  the  village,  while  he  was  engaged 
in  his  holy  work.  Many  predicted  ill  to  Nessacus,  from 
this  committal  of  his  fate  to  the  hands  of  a  known  ene- 
my, but  none  ventured  to  remonstrate  against  the 
decree. 

A  few  rods  below  the  cataract  at  TVahconah's  Falls 
is  a  sharp  rock,  which  divides  the  stream.  At  the  time 
of  our  tradition,  the  current  flowed  equally  upon  either 
side  of  it,  and  it  had  often  been  used,  like  the  flight  of 
birds,  the  aspect  of  clouds,  and  other  simple  objects  in 


WAHCONAH.  225 


nature,  to  ascertain  the  will  of  Heaven.  Upon  the 
night  of  Tashmu's  supposed  divination  in  the  ""Wiz- 
zard's  Glen,"  that  respectable  minister  of  religion  might, 
instead,  have  been  seen  here,  assisted  by  the  stronger 
arms  of  his  Mohawk  friend,  tugging  away  at  certain 
great  rocks  which  lay  near  the  shore,  and  which  they 
finally  contrived  to  place  in  the  water,  so  as  to  impede 
the  current  upon  one  side. 

At  this  same  spot,  by  the  river  side,  a  day  or  two 
afterwards,  the  tribe  were  assembled,  and  it  was  an- 
nounced to  them  that  Manitou  had  delegated  the  Spirit 
of  the  Stream  to  settle  their  difficulties.  In  other 
words  —  a  small  canoe,  curiously  carved  with  myste- 
rious hieroglyphics,  was  to  be  launched  midway  in  the 
river,  and,  as  the  current  chanced  to  carry  it  on  one 
side  or  the  other  of  the  dividing  rock,  the  questions  in 
dispute  were  to  be  decided.  This  was  a  mode  of  solv- 
ing knotty  points  by  no  means  uncommon,  and  which, 
therefore,  excited  no  surprise,  except  that  the  Priest's 
chances  for  trickery  seemed  to  be  lessened.  Simple 
souls !  who  knew  not  that  wlrat  appears  the  fairest  field 
often  affords  the  best  harvest  to  accomplished  knaves ! 

An  "  era  of  good  feeling "  seemed  now  to  dawn. 
All  parties  hastened  to  adopt  this  as  a  "  finality."  Tash- 
mu,  in  oily  words,  wished  well  to  his  brother  Nessacus  ; 
and  Nessacus  resigned  himself,  unreservedly,  to  the  care 
of  his  brother  Tashmu.  The  Priest  was  as  much  puz- 
zled as  pleased,  at  this  sudden  access  of  confidence; 
but  it,  at  least,  made  his  part  easy  to  phi}'. 

A  solemn  feast  was  now  held  ;  and  the  magical  bark, 
freighted  with  so  many  hopes,  was  then  poised  in  the 
middle  of  the  stream.  Miahcomo  was  placed,  in  Bavage 
19 


226  TACxIICONIC. 


state,  at  a  conspicuous  point,  while  Yonnongah  and  In- 
rival  were  assigned  separate  sides  of  the  river. 

"  Let  Manitou  speak  !  "  exclaimed  the  Priest ;  and 
the  sacred  canoe,  released  from  its  moorings,  floated 
steadily  down  the  stream  —  inclining  now  to  the  right 
hand,  now  to  the  left.  All  eyes  intently  followed  its 
course,  hardly  doubting  that,  by  some  charm  or  other, 
Tashmu  would  at  last  cause  it  to  pass  near  Yonnongah. 
You  will  guess  that  none  counted  more  confidently  on 
such  a  result  than  that  worthy  himself.  Still  the  bark 
floated  regardlessly  on,  until  it  touched  the  magic  rock, 
—  hung  poised  there  for  a  moment,  then  seemed  to 
incline  toward  the  Mohawk  ;  but,  the  inconstant  current 
striking  it  obliquely,  it  swung  slowly  round,  as  upon  a 
pivot,  and  passed  down  the  stream,  by  the  feet  of  Nes- 
sacus. 

"TVagh!  the  Great  Spirit  hath  spoken,  and  it  is 
good ! "  exclaimed  Miahcomo ;  and  the  people,  whose 
hearts  the  young  chief  had  somehow  gained,  shouted 
"  Ho !     It  is  good ! " 

The  Priest  and  his  accomplice  gazed  at  each  other 
in  silent  astonishment,  that  Heaven  could  possibly  de- 
cide against  arguments  of  such  weight  as  they  had 
used.  The  former,  for  a  moment,  began  to  suspect  that 
a  great  God  might  possibly,  in  reality,  rule  in  the  affairs 
of  men,  —  making  him  to  bless  whom  he  would  have 
cursed.  But  the  idea  was  too  mighty  for  him,  and  he 
recurred,  naturally,  to  a  suspicion  of  treachery.  I 
need  not  say,  however,  that  he  had  his  own  reasons 
for  not  pressing  an  immediate  investigation.  I  do  not 
know  that  it  ever  occurred  to  him  that  Nessacus  might 
have   been   a   witness   to   his   pious   midnight   labors, 


"WAHCOXAH.  227 


and,  improving  upon  the  hint,  rendered  them  abor- 
tive. 

The  assent  of  all  parties  was  accordingly  given  to 
the  proposed  marriage;  and  the  time  which  intervened 
between  the  trial  and  a  "lucky  day,"  was  to  be  filled 
up  with  feasting  and  revelry.  The  disappearance  of 
Tashmu  from  the  scene  added  to  the  hilarity  of  the 
occasion,  and  all  was  wild  merriment. 

But  alarming  intelligence  interrupted  their  festivities. 
The  terrible  Major  Tallcott,  with  his  soldiers,  had  pur- 
sued the  brave  Sachem  of  Quaboag  across  the  moun- 
tains, and  slain  him,  with  more  than  two  score  of  his 
best  warriors,  at  Mahaiwe,  on  the  banks  of  the  Housa- 
tonic,  not  thirty  miles  from  the  settlement  of  Miahcomo. 
Even  their  temporary  security  was  gone  ;  the  mountain 
barrier  was  already  passed. 

The  fugitives  from  the  battle  at  Mahaiwe  came 
thronging  in,  but  at  last  brought  intelligence  that  the 
invaders  had  returned.  A  party  of  them  brought,  also, 
the  missing  Tashmu,  whom  they  accused  of  having 
offered  to  lead  the  enemy  to  the  refuge  of  Nessacus. 
The  evidence  of  his  guilt  was  complete,  and  the  fate  of 
the  criminal  was  not  delayed  by  any  unnecessary  judi- 
cial forms. 

Only  a  want  of  provisions  had  prevented  Major  Tall- 
cott from  accepting  the  Wizard's  kind  offer,  and  he 
might  now  return,  at  any  moment,  to  profit  by  it.  The 
best  haste  was  accordingly  made  in  their  migration, 
and  before  the  November  winds  blew,  Nessacus  had 
led  them  to  a  home  in  the  "West,  where  they  became  a 
great  tribe,  and  flourished  for  many  generation-,  before 
they  again  heard  the  white  man's  rifle. 


228  TAGIICONIC. 


As  for  Wahconah,  the  story  of  her  happiness  conies 
down  to  us,  through  Indian  traditions,  faint  and  far, 
but  sweet  as  the  perfume  which  a  western  gale  might 
bring  from  a  far-off  prairie. 


THE    END. 


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